Post by James Norrington on Jun 4, 2011 20:44:10 GMT -8
Having to spend time in Fort Charles was usually something of a chore. Sharing a building with the detestable Cutler Beckett was not James's idea of fun - especially not when they had business together. You could spend hours just in one-on-one meetings. Thankfully, the man was away at this time; as such, James could run Fort Charles as the military base it was - by himself, as Admiral, and without consulting a scathing git he didn't much like. It made him want to leave Port Royal sometimes, knowing that he could run a fort like this always, but he liked the Caribbean; liked this place specifically, really. Aside the heat, which he had only just started to get used to after so many years, he found it perfectly suitable.
Of course, it wasn't just the weather. There were other things tying him to this port - one thing in particular, really, though he preferred not to think of it. There were other things he had to focus on - not least marriage, which would directly contradict his ability to act on this secret anchor of his. Well; it wouldn't, strictly speaking, but it would make it morally wrong, and James wasn't quite keen on that. He had done things in his past which he wasn't proud of, certainly, but it had been necessary. To do something wrong in the eyes of God only to succumb to his own free will was not acceptable - especial not for the Admiral of the Fleet. You were meant to lead the nation into good decisions, based on sound moral judgements; breaking wedlock was not exactly the best example of stellar behaviour.
It made him blush to think about it, though - it was the kind of thing that made him nervous that people could read minds. God himself only knew that it didn't feel impossible anymore - not after the supernatural events he'd encountered during his travels chasing Sparrow and the Black Pearl. It wouldn't do to have anybody intercept thoughts such as these. He was a righteous man; a good man, and a law-abiding man. It simply seemed that his thoughts were not so wholesome. Thankfully, his sin was not the kind of thing that could hurt anybody - save the person to whom it was directed, of course, but James wasn't going to let them find out, so it was no harm at all. Sometimes he wondered if it might be a test from God, seeing whether or not he could withstand temptation and continue to perform his duty despite himself.
As he turned the corner, however, he cast it out of his mind. He had reached his office, and there was work to be done. It wouldn't do to consider his mortal soul as he was trying to organise the port. It wasn't a particularly taxing job, but mistakes could cost him dearly - not least because it would make people think he wasn't efficient in his position. That kind of thing worried James incredibly, because he knew he was good at his job. He wanted people to know that he put in a great deal of effort, and making an elementary error purely thanks to a silly personal distraction was therefore not an option.
Ten minutes later, though, it forced itself upon him again as he heard a familiar knock on the door, watching it open. Lieutenant Gillette was not rude, though this behaviour could be considered it in high society. It was simply that Gillette knew he had permission to enter James's offices whenever he needed to, save for when he wasn't sitting in it. "Good morning, Gillette," he said, in the usual professional tone. It wasn't fair to subject the younger Lieutenant to the blasphemous turns of his heart. Naturally, it wasn't fair to James to ignore them, but he preferred to deny himself than to harm his faithful and extremely capable assistant. "How is the morning suiting you?"
Of course, it wasn't just the weather. There were other things tying him to this port - one thing in particular, really, though he preferred not to think of it. There were other things he had to focus on - not least marriage, which would directly contradict his ability to act on this secret anchor of his. Well; it wouldn't, strictly speaking, but it would make it morally wrong, and James wasn't quite keen on that. He had done things in his past which he wasn't proud of, certainly, but it had been necessary. To do something wrong in the eyes of God only to succumb to his own free will was not acceptable - especial not for the Admiral of the Fleet. You were meant to lead the nation into good decisions, based on sound moral judgements; breaking wedlock was not exactly the best example of stellar behaviour.
It made him blush to think about it, though - it was the kind of thing that made him nervous that people could read minds. God himself only knew that it didn't feel impossible anymore - not after the supernatural events he'd encountered during his travels chasing Sparrow and the Black Pearl. It wouldn't do to have anybody intercept thoughts such as these. He was a righteous man; a good man, and a law-abiding man. It simply seemed that his thoughts were not so wholesome. Thankfully, his sin was not the kind of thing that could hurt anybody - save the person to whom it was directed, of course, but James wasn't going to let them find out, so it was no harm at all. Sometimes he wondered if it might be a test from God, seeing whether or not he could withstand temptation and continue to perform his duty despite himself.
As he turned the corner, however, he cast it out of his mind. He had reached his office, and there was work to be done. It wouldn't do to consider his mortal soul as he was trying to organise the port. It wasn't a particularly taxing job, but mistakes could cost him dearly - not least because it would make people think he wasn't efficient in his position. That kind of thing worried James incredibly, because he knew he was good at his job. He wanted people to know that he put in a great deal of effort, and making an elementary error purely thanks to a silly personal distraction was therefore not an option.
Ten minutes later, though, it forced itself upon him again as he heard a familiar knock on the door, watching it open. Lieutenant Gillette was not rude, though this behaviour could be considered it in high society. It was simply that Gillette knew he had permission to enter James's offices whenever he needed to, save for when he wasn't sitting in it. "Good morning, Gillette," he said, in the usual professional tone. It wasn't fair to subject the younger Lieutenant to the blasphemous turns of his heart. Naturally, it wasn't fair to James to ignore them, but he preferred to deny himself than to harm his faithful and extremely capable assistant. "How is the morning suiting you?"
