Old Dog; No Tricks, Please [Jack]

[James Norrington]

Perhaps it was unusual for a man in his position, but James Norrington didn't always enjoy being referred to as 'Admiral' and 'Sir'. In fact, anonymity could be quite refreshing. Alright; it didn't allow him the reminder of his success that being recognised usually did, but that wasn't what he was looking for when he went out to drink. What he was looking for tonight was relaxation, a warm fuzz in the back of his hardworking mind, and memories of a few years past when ale, the cards and stinking whores were all he had. Perhaps he missed the rush he'd felt when he'd elevated from the gutter back up to acceptable society - going to drink amongst the other semi-ruffians probably imitated that in part. Whatever the reason, he found himself glad enough that portraits of the Admiral of the Navy were not plastered around Port Royal, and that people tended to be at a distance during parades. It granted him the gift of being able to disappear if he wanted to, if only he removed his finery. Naturally, as he wanted to blend in, this is what he'd chosen to do tonight; even if he couldn't dress entirely like a commoner. He had far too much pride in him for that.

The ale that they sold here was cheap, strong, tasteless and perfect; he bought a large flagon of it and took it over to one of the tables at the side of the room. It was good, sometimes, just to observe - he loved to hear what the men and few women around him were happy to say when they assumed there were no officials nearby. Sometimes he heard slurs against the Navy itself, but it merely made him smile. People were welcome to have their own opinions of the Navy if they so chose; their taxes were paying for it to exist and it protected them and their homes regardless of what they thought, so he didn't particularly mind. Sometimes he even caught slips of junior naval officers' conversations, which were even more entertaining; but best of all were attacks on the East India Trading Company. Culter Beckett- title dropped in his mind, thanks very much - was one of James's least favourite men in the Caribbean. That included Sparrow and Turner.

Speak of the Devil, they said, and he shall appear. So it was that he caught sight of a man that he believed very strongly to be Captain Jack Sparrow swaggering into the bar. He sighed, downing his drink and heading over to the bar to get another. Usually he ignored his acquaintances when he spotted them in this bar - they were few and far between in a place like this given his usual company, so they hardly expected to see him, and that made it easy to hide. With Jack Sparrow, though, he wanted the edge. He didn't want there to be a chance that the pirate would catch sight of him first - no, not even a slither. He stood beside him at the bar, speaking over him as he ordered another drink - two, in fact. "Back on other men's turf again, are we, Sparrow?" he asked, his voice dry. "Is that still Captain Sparrow, or have you gone and lost your crew and vessel again?"

Come to think of it, he wasn't entirely sure that Sparrow would have known that he was alive - right up until now, of course. He might have heard something on the grapevine, he supposed, but there was also a chance he wouldn't have. Half of him wanted the element of surprise, and half of him wanted Sparrow to know straight away that he had risen and come out on top in the end - risen from the ashes, indeed. If he got drunk enough tonight, Sparrow might be ashes within a short while. For now, at least, he just wanted to hear what the pirate had to say. If he was willing to vacate the port, there might not have to be any trouble. Maybe. Possibly.

[Captain Sparrow]

Jack had been keeping his word to William rather well, if anyone were to ask him. They wouldn't, naturally, because no one else knew of the secret promise he'd made to young Will Turner. "Keep her safe for me, Jack," he'd said. "Don't let her know, but keep an eye on her." Jack had given his word despite a few misgivings that his manly bits might go missing were she to find out. It had gone swimmingly so far, though; he had bribed and threatened a few smarmy gits to watch her and report on her comings and goings while he was away and he had visited her a few times when he could risk coming into Port Royal.

Luckily, Elizabeth was a pirate at heart and understood his need for freedom more than anyone else. She didn't mind his long absences and genuinely liked to hear his decked up stories about conquests and pillaging. Her laugh was wonderful and if Will wasn't such a dear friend, he may still hold a small flame in his heart for her. However, now he just liked to tease her with a secret smirk and a warm glance here and there. He'd offered for her to come on the Pearl with him more than once, every time he saw her actually, but she always refused. He never really understood that; he knew they were more alike than she cared to admit and he would have rather died than stay on land longer than a few days. He'd tried it once when he was younger and still had nightmares about the constricting solidity of civil life.

But, Elizabeth was still a young, unmarried girl and he felt her discomfort at having a decidedly untrustworthy man alone in her home rather acutely. So, he usually made an excuse to take his leave and headed for the nearest bar to sample the fine assortment of rum and women. He didn't get to stay very long on most occasions since Beckett still had a rather large bounty out for him, but that made it all the more fun to sneak around. At least, until he saw someone who could put him directly into Beckett's hands and ultimately into the noose.

Norrington. While he wouldn't go so far to say that he hated the former Commodore, he would have given quite a bit of the rum in the world to see him stay dead. He should have known Will wouldn't be able to do his job properly and get the bastard over to the other side. "Well, if it isn't the former Commodore. I must say, you're looking a sight better than the last time I saw you; simply must tell me your secret." Oh, he wouldn't be leaving just yet. He just wouldn't be Jack Sparrow if he didn't take a little risk to get a jab or two in about an old nemesis. He had all the exits covered anyway and his crew were standing by, watching out of the corner of their eyes the way that only pirates could; the way that makes it look like you're passed out sodding drunk it a puddle of weak ale, but really you're as sharp as a tack. At least, he hoped that's the tactic that some of them were taking.

It bothered him surprisingly little as he didn't expect Norrington to do much in the way of arresting him. He wasn't wearing a uniform so Jack was tempted to raise his hopes in the favor that he may not have entered back into service, but he was a little too smart for that. A man like Norrington didn't just give up on his life-long career...or the dream of a life-long mate such as Elizabeth, and a prestigious stint in military service would be just the way to do it in his mind. Of course, Elizabeth was no ordinary woman and happened to be madly in love with Will Turner, but that was another matter altogether.

[James Norrington]

James could not - and would not - deny that he had played whichever side was necessary to achieving his ends during the events of Davy Jones's reign over the seas. Any desperate man would have done the same; any disgraced man. Thankfully, James's disgrace had occurred out of the eyes of most of high society - he was able to lie enough to persuade them that it had not been the dreadful sink into depression, alcoholism and, worst of all, the lack of polish and poise to hide it all. No; instead, it had been a covert operation for the good of her Majesty, the Navy and the law-abiding citizens of the Caribbean sea. It angered him every day that Cutler Beckett was still alive - partially because he was a sickening human being, of course, but mainly because he knew that slimy git could spoil the entire facade in a second. After all, he had seen James at his lowest. He knew what it had all come to.

Still. All the treachery considered, he supposed a man like Jack Sparrow had every reason to be disillusioned with him - well, that and the fact that he was regarded as one of the most successful and driven pirate-catchers in the continent. Of course, it was hardly fair that Sparrow - or even Elizabeth - hold his betrayal against him. After all, they weren't innocent of abuse of trust, backstabbing and general disloyalty themselves; not least committing these crimes against society itself. As such, James really felt no remorse for what he had done - he had not behaved any worse than a pirate would on a daily basis, and he had recovered from it. God would judge him, and James truly believed that God would come down on his side - if there was such a thing.

Of course, the social miracle that had just occurred made him rather suspect there was. That miracle was, of course, Sparrow providing the perfect window of opportunity for James to snip in and rub in his success. Normally he was far too proud and polite a man to do such a thing, but... well, this was Sparrow, and he was thieving scum. "Former Commodore," he said dryly, "and current Admiral. Assuming you don't understand the official, legal system of hierarchy," he said, tone biting, "that very briefly means... I'm in charge." He took another drink of his ale, wanting to allow it to sink in before he added his final statement for the record. "Goodness, Sparrow. Anyone would think you don't keep up with current affairs."

[Captain Sparrow]

It was true that Jack was known to put his own motives above others, especially their safety and often trust. However, he was a pirate and a damn sight better than many who raped and murdered indiscriminately so he considered himself to be rather a good man. He made no excuses about tricking his way through life, admitting freely that he was a bit of a scoundrel but he always kept his word and always got a friend out of a mess he'd put them in. So, he considered his hatred of Norrington completely justified. It was more than the fact that he'd arrested and tried to hang him more than once or that he'd spent years of his life devoted to hunting him down. No, the man had joined his crew, slept and worked with his men and proved his true cowardly colors when he could run off at the first possible moment back to the safety of his precious Navy. Jack had been sure he'd come around to the pirate way in time, having seen the same look on Norrington's face that Jack had when he looked out on the sea--the look that sang of freedom, and he felt it acutely when he failed to make that so.

He had genuinely been sad when he'd watched Norrington's body be dumped off and joined in the mourning silence out of respect for someone he considered to be a worthy adversary. However, no part of him rejoiced at the news that he was still alive. That only meant trouble for him, especially since he'd been accepted back into the ranks. "Ahh, thank you for that. I never did understand the workings of the cowardly masses in your pretty blue sheep costumes." He accepted his rum with a nod and took a small drink, inching toward the door slowly but for him to make a successful escape he would have to circle around Norrington and make his way through the bar to the opposite side. "Well I wish you good luck in your future endeavors, Admiral. And if you ever get tired of saluting to a man with less backbone than even you have there's always a spot open in my crew for you." He had completed his circle by then, going slow enough to make it look casual enough and was just about to make his break for it when he felt the gap behind him close with bodies.

He was trapped in...with Norrington. Fantastic. His eyes flitted over the other possible routes but most of them were barred as well. His only real hope was to hop on the bar and make a run for it that way, but it would draw the attention of most of the patrons and he couldn't tell if Norrington had any men backing him up. So, he decided to try the opposite tactic. He took a few steps to close the distance between them, leaning in to make his words all the more poignant. "I know you felt it, the draw of the sea. You've tasted the freedom you could have, you've lived like a pirate. How do you think your King would feel to know that, hmm? You may think pirates are the baddies, but we won't kill you for your allegiance. We judge a man on his worth after we've gotten to know him, not based on what we've heard." He took another long drink of his rum before spreading his free hand out as if painting a picture for him. "Think about it...the open sea at your beck and call, no one to answer to and the rest of your days to do whatever you want. You'd be your own master with only the sea to consider. You want that, you long for that freedom..."

[James Norrington]

"As opposed to the incredibly brave man sitting before me in his uniform of a dirty old hat and old pirate brand with a history of running away from his punishments," James said dryly, not prepared to take an insult for the Royal Navy sitting down. It had served him very well, and he did not intend to allow it to go slighted. "That you do understand, it would seem." Even after his explanation, though, it seemed that Sparrow didn't entirely have it to heart. In the interest of rubbing it in properly, he decided to press the matter. "Actually, Sparrow, I salute to no-one. Not anymore."

That wasn't strictly true, of course. He saluted his Captains, Commodores and Lieutenants - those who deserved it, at least. He saluted officers of note. He saluted anybody in the Navy who he deemed suitable, actually; it was simply that he no longer had to, really. It was entirely his choice. In James's eyes, not doing so would do more damage, though. People liked to feel appreciated, even in a rather small way, and they did not approve of working for someone they detested. James had no interest in making friends with everybody in the Navy, but he did have an interest in making them work to the best of their ability. They certainly wouldn't do that if they hated him; as such, he made it his mission to ensure that most of them would not. Manners took him some way to that; the rest was in fairness, the right decisions, and generally being capable. He had those things in the bag.

Of course, the main point of the sentence had not been to infer that Norrington was forced to salute people. It had been an invitation - perhaps a sarcastic one. James couldn't tell. Regardless, it was the main focus, and it woudn't be prudent to ignore it. "Need I remind you that I am the premier pirate hunter in these waters, Sparrow?" Let it not be said that he had been the hunted rather than the hunter not so long ago - he had been a desperate man, and desperate men sought desperate measures. There had been nothing else for it, and it had served him well to act in the way he had. As such, he believed his actions to be perfectly justifiable, and not at all worth mentioning in conversation. Especially not in high society.

Jack's constant looking around didn't escape him, but he didn't realise that Sparrow had intended to leave until the crowds had closed around them. He was rather enjoying being face-to-face with someone he had frequently come close to hanging, and he suspected Sparrow was enjoying the taunting, too. Unfortunately, he had hit the nail on the head with at least the last part - sometimes James did wish he could scorn his duties and just take to the ocean, setting his course wherever he chose. That wasn't the life he led, though; that wasn't a proper life to lead. It wasn't viable. He was as close to it as he could legally grow at the moment, and really he didn't mind so much. It was better to be a restrained gentleman, not receiving everything you wanted at once, anyway. He had a feeling that Jack Sparrow was far too used to being his own master.

"You're quite mistaken," he said, sipping his ale. "My master is the law, and nothing more. Your master's the law too, Sparrow. You'll know that very well when it eventually catches up with you. God will judge you if not."