haste and mistakes, && open

[Jack Sparrow]

Tap.

A long, heavy sigh.

Tap.

The drumming of impatient fingers against the surface of a hardwood desk.

Tap. Tap. Taptaptaptap.

The click of something being closed before it went flying across the room, hitting the wall, and falling safely to the bed below.

Jack let out another half-hearted sigh. If ever there was a compass that was more stubborn and irritating, he had yet to meet it. He was even willing to go so far as to say he would shake hands with whatever one appeared to him first that topped the all ready high standards, though he knew in his heart of hearts that it was impossible: compasses, regretabley, did not, nor would they ever, have hands with which to shake.

He leaned forward slightly, reaching for the half empty, or perhaps it was half filled, bottle of rum, resting its neck between two of his fingers for a prolonged moment before he put the curve to his lips and sipped slowly. He must have been far out of it that night, Jack realized, for the rum, miraculously, was doing nothing for him.

There were, however, many things to blame for such a happening, however. Had he not been given three tasks in eleven days to complete, perhaps he would have been a bit more lively, more into the drink that so often consoled him.

And the worst part of it all was that the one thing that he had wasted so long doing before his condemnment to the Locker was lost to Norrington, the filthy mangey man that had become so much of a fly on a dog to Jack. There was no saying whether or not he had escaped the wretched island on which he was left, and along with that was no guarentee that Jones' heart was still with him.

Setting the rum bottle down on the desk before him and standing up - swaggering slightly at that - he made his way to the bed across the room, taking delicate care to trample the blankets Barbossa would use each night, and picked up his compass.

Cautiously, as though he was afraid of what would come by doing so, he opened it, watching as the dial spun around, shifting its point fro one place to another indecisively.

"Bugger," he muttered, and returned to his seat, eyes darting instantly to the door of the cabin at the sound of a short series of loud, hasty knocks.

[Anamaria]

Anamaria chugged down yet another glass of rum, as her shipmates cheered happily. In their previous stop to Tortuga, the crew had 'bought' loads of rum for the next long voyage. She didn't know much about where they were going except that Jack was looking for some sort of a key. A key to what he didn't know. Well, that's what he had previously told the crew. After his bump in with Davy Jones, Jack needed to get 100 souls in exchange for his. She wondered how her captain would pull off such an enormous task within 11 days. He was 'Captain Jack Sparrow,' but everyone had their limits.

Glancing around the crew's cabin, she noticed that he wasn't there. That was odd, even for Jack. He was the best at their rum game. The person to drink the most glasses without passing out would be victorious. She had never won but Jack was the champion at this game. She walked to his cabin, he legs not cooperating with her mind. Anamaria cursed under her breath as she did her best to keep her balance. Bloody ship with its bloody moving, she thougt to herself.

She knocked gently on his door, hoping to see his face and not Barbossa's. Anamaria couldn't stand the fact that he was here. The man was despicable. If there was anything worse than a pirate it was a mutinous one. She hadn't been there when the mutiny had occured, but she had heard plenty of stories from her fellow crew members and of course, the Captain who enjoyed boasting about the fact that he had escaped the island.

[Jack Sparrow]

He stood from his position in the chair, sauntering as carefully as he could toward the door and the incessant knocking. Tucking the compass away beneath the fabric he had wrapped around his waist, he reached for the door, pulling it open slowly and deliberately to reveal the form of Anamaria.

"Well then," he greeted rather off-handedly as he turned and went back to his desk. No more was said for a matter of moments; instead, Jack picked up his drawing compass once more and began to measure distances across a half-finished map, his mind not really into it.

Reaching for his rum bottle once again, he straightened up in his seat. He turned slightly, checking to see if Anamaria had allowed herself to enter the room or not. "How's everything on the deck?" he asked of her, not really caring but feeling a need to find out nonetheless. It was, moreorless, a captain's instincts to ask. Whilst Barbossa was out and on board, possibly making sure things were safe and dandy, Jack still didn't trust him to save half a soul.

[Anamaria]

"Well then."

She rolled her eyes at his greeting. He would never greet anyone normally. All the years at sea had seemed to destroy the little brain cells Captian Jack Sparrow had started off with. Anamaria watched him walk back to desk, rather shakily at that as he began to fiddle with his compass and map. Although, it didn't seem like he was paying much attention to it. He seemed to have something heavier on his mind she she had determined this just from his facial expression.

"How's everything on the deck?"

Anamaria took his question as a sign that she could enter his cabin. His actions were difficult to understand, but she was half drunk, what did she know. "Alright, Cap'n. Everyone's havin' their share of the rum." That was a rather strange question coming from him. Jack had never cared what the crew was doing as long as they weren't damaging 'his boat' or planning a mutiny. She assumed it was because of Barbossa.

"Where's Barbossa?" she asked trying to start a conversation

[Jack Sparrow]

"Alright, Cap'n. Everyone's havin' their share of the rum."

He raised his brows at her, more out of habit than actual surprise. It wasn't at all out of the ordinary for the crew to have found joy in the booze that had been recently acquired at Tortuga. Normally, he would have gone on deck and been the first to crack into the kegs, but Jack's heart wasn't rightly into it at the time.

"I don' suppose anyone's consum'd a bit too much and fall'n overboard, namely one Barbossa, has 'e?" Jack asked of her, his words slurred slightly, but still quite understandable.

"Where's Barbossa?"

Apparently, he had not, or Anamaria would very well have known. "Off having a fancy-ta-do with his monkey, I'd wager," he replied with a wave of his hand. "Last I checked he'd gone for air."

Not that Jack particularly cared. So long as Barbossa was out of his way and in the way of him and his Pearl - for his it was - then he was fine. It would give him one more minute of sanity, one more moment with his beloved Pearl, and that's all that mattered to him at the moment. Moreorless, at any rate.

[Anamaria]

She walked into the small, not cozy cabin and sat on her captain's bed. She knew he wouldn't care. He never did. Anamaria noticed that he had raised his eyebrows after she told him of the crew's antics. She didn't know how to react to that. The cap'n was a rather moody fellow and his actions weren't easily deciphered. At least, at her end they weren't. Letting out a sigh, she laid back on the bed, waiting for him to speak.

"I don' suppose anyone's consum'd a bit too much and fall'n overboard, namely one Barbossa, has 'e?"

Anamaria nodded slightly. So, he was half drunk as well, "Dunno, Cap'n. Everyone's in 'he 'abins." She put a hand to her head and cursed under her breath. It was throbbing. That rum had tasted funny and it was from Tortuga. Who knew what the ruddy hell they did to it there? She should've checked where the crew had gotten it before drinking five mugs.

"Off having a fancy-ta-do with his monkey, I'd wager," he replied with a wave of his hand. "Last I checked he'd gone for air."

"Ain't there any way to kill that damned monkey?" she groaned. She like the rest of the crew knew it had been undead when the 'Curse of the Black Pearl' had been in affect. But now...was it still undead? If it came on to her hammock on more goddamn time, she was going to take the Capn's pistol and shoot it.

[Jack Sparrow]

His eyes followed Anamaria as she made her way across the cluttered room to sit at the foot of his bed. It was odd, in a way, that she was able to make herself at home in such a place as well as she had, when there was little comfort to have been offered.

For a moment, his mind wandered off, brushing upon subjects and topics that more than likely would have been left better in the recesses of his mind rather than being brought to the surface for pondering. However, they were beckoned forth, and Jack began to momentarily dwell, trying to figure out when it was that the two of them had formed such a bond as they had. It was something that few pirates could - and willingly would - allow to come into being, and they had done just that. In a way, they were more than just companions on a ship on a quest; they were, for lack of better words, friends.

"Dunno, Cap'n. Everyone's in 'he 'abins."

He blinked, thoughts being pushed from the foremost part of his mind and clearing from his head entirely. His brows lowered, furrowing in the center of his brow as his lower lip ejected slightly. "They abandonned the rum?" he asked plainly, little emotion in his voice. It seemed to be a slightly barbaric thing to do, but that was only in his opinion, which was slightly off and tilted at the moment.

"Ain't there any way to kill that damned monkey?"

Swoshing the rum back and forth in the bottom of his rum bottle, he fished his eyes around the room, allowing them to rest on a pistol near the foot of his bed. Of course, it should have been put somewhere safer, out of reach of someone like Barbossa, but he had left it there out of sheer laziness - or perhaps he was too wasted to have recalled putting it anywhere else.

"Not that I know of, luv," he replied, pressing his lips to the rim of the glass and tilting it. "Either who, whether or not we can is beside the question; I'd rather keep him around for target practice, if you catch meaning."

[Anamaria]

Ana felt strange just lying there in her captain's bed. Most crew members wouldn't behave like this if they were given the chance to come into his cabin. Most never entered. This was her second or third time coming in most recently. In a strange way, the two had created a bond. Almost like friends. Well, as close as two pirates could get without any tension between them. She had long given up on getting revenge Jack. It was useless and if he didn't get 100 souls within the next eleven days he was good as dead. Working for Davy Jones was a fate worse than death. If she had to die a pirate, she would die proudly and stay that way. The thought of death sent a chill up Anamaria's spine. It was a horrible thing, death. The thought of being nothing was nerve-wracking.

Her thoughts were cut short when Jack began speaking."They abandonned the rum?" Shaking her head slightly, she turned around so she could face him.

"No, the be drinking the rum in the cabins. Bloody idiots," she muttered. If she found even one drop of rum on her hammock that didn't belong to her, someone was going to Davy Jones' locker faster than they could have imagined. There was a thing called 'Personal Space,' which most pirates didn't understand. They would treat everyone else's belongings as their own and she hated that.

"Not that I know of, luv," he replied, pressing his lips to the rim of the glass and tilting it. "Either who, whether or not we can is beside the question; I'd rather keep him around for target practice, if you catch meaning."

"Right," she replied pure boredom in her voice. The monkey was nothing but a nuiscanse her opinion, but it was because of Barbossa they hadn't killed 'little Jack.' Or so she thought. Why else would he be keeping the thing around? They could've easily thrown it overboard by now.

[Jack Sparrow]

"No, the be drinking the rum in the cabins. Bloody idiots."

Jack let out a sigh; there was no way that he would be able to make his way down to the celllars now to retrieve a rum without getting caught up in the temptation of drinking games. He had less than half a bottle left, and that was not going to last him the night, no matter how sparing he was of it.

"Bugger," he muttered. Clearing his throat slightly and raising his voice enough for Anamaria to hear him, he said, "If they draw the many creepy crawlies that dwell below them, I'll be the one laughin' at them. And pityin' you, o'course."

"Right."

He could tell that she was wondering if there was, in truth, some ultimate reason for keeping little Jack that rather unfairly and unrightly stole his name around. Perhaps there were, namely in the form of Barbossa, but he wouldn't bother dragging the mutinous bastard into the equation; it was bad enough that he was the ever-hovering first mate that brooded about not earning the title captain.

But it was Jack's ship. He was captain, end of story.

"I confess," he drawled after a moment. "Barbossa won't let me kill the blasted thing, not that we could if we wanted to."

[Anamaria]

"Bugger," he muttered.

Ana noticed him eyeing his bottle of rum with a look of an yance on his face. He was more than halfway done with his bottle and if she knew him well enouugh, he would not make it through the hour, let alone the night. That was the life on the Black Pearl. If you didn't have rum time would seem to be passing slower than usual. Rum kept the crew happy and upbeat to do all the work required on a ship. It was a stupid way of life, but it was theirs and Ana would've exchange it for anything. Being a pirate wasn't a comfortable lifestyle, but it was exhilarating. The thrill of a chase and the excitement of opening a chest and finding treasure would all be worth it.

"If they draw the many creepy crawlies that dwell below them, I'll be the one laughin' at them. And pityin' you, o'course."

"Blitherin' idiots. If I find one thing on my hammock, the Black Pearl's gonna have less deckhands, savvy?" she asked hoping that she got her message across to the captain.

"I confess," he drawled after a moment. "Barbossa won't let me kill the blasted thing, not that we could if we wanted to."

A small chuckle escaped her lips, "Barbossa's attached to that monkey. It's beginnin' to get a bit creepy."

[ooc: ><;;]

[Jack Sparrow]

"Blitherin' idiots. If I find one thing on my hammock, the Black Pearl's gonna have less deckhands, savvy?"

It was simply amusing to Jack that a shipmate - a lady, nonetheless - was threatening to take down others aboard the Pearl for something as simple as a rum festival. He wanted to laugh aloud at it, though he figured it would only lead to a witty, snapping comment from Anamaria, and it was something he was doing a fairly good job at avoiding so far.

He was far from about to break the streak.

"Jus' no killing off Gibbs," he replied simply with a wave of his hand. "We need him around here to deal with the lo' of crazies that call the Pearl their home."

"Barbossa's attached to that monkey. It's beginnin' to get a bit creepy."

"Easy to deal wit'," Jack replied with an air of boredom. "All we do is shoot Barbossa. Then we'll be able to get rid of the blasted monkey, and we won't have a word of complaint about it, now will we?"

Quite a cruel thing to do, but Jack couldn't have cared less. Barbossa had left him on a god-forsaken spit of land twice, attempted to bring about his death once, stole his ship, named himself the Captain, and many other things beside. It was the least of what he deserved.

[Anamaria]

"Jus' no killing off Gibbs," he replied simply with a wave of his hand. "We need him around here to deal with the lo' of crazies that call the Pearl their home."

She chuckled slightly at his slurred words, which strangley made a lot of sense, something that usually didn't happen when Jack Sparrow was involved. Gibbs was another man who had been very loyal to Jack and the Black Pearl over the years. He even knew Elizabeth and got along with her rather well, something most of the residents of the Black pearl didn't do. Ana didn't have a problem with the woman. There were very few woman on the Pearl and she didn't intend to cause any bad blood between them...well..unless she had a good reason. And being annoying wasn't a good one.

"Easy to deal wit'," Jack replied with an air of boredom. "All we do is shoot Barbossa. Then we'll be able to get rid of the blasted monkey, and we won't have a word of complaint about it, now will we?"

Typical Cap'n Jack. Always looking for the way way out. It was also because the two men were bitter rivals working together to stay alive and kill each other after this ordeal had passed. Men, she thought sarcastically. "What make ya think he'll die? He didn't teh firs' time ya shot 'im."

[Jack Sparrow]

She laughed slightly at his words, or perhaps it was how he said them - Jack couldn't tell; the point was, she laughed, and that was that. He peered at her down the length of his nose, head tilted back slightly. "Somethin' funny, man?" he asked of her with a twist in his words.

It could either have been taken as a snappy question, or something that he had meant. So long as he got an answer on the subject, he was happy. Come to think of it, if thinking was what he had been doing, he really didn't care if he got an answer or not, just so long as silence didn't befall the two of them.

"What make ya think he'll die? He didn't teh firs' time ya shot 'im."

That was a good point to have made. However, it wasn't that Hector Barbossa hadn't been killed; it was more like he was sent to the edge of the world and was brought back to the realm of the living by Tia Dalma - Jones bless the crazy woman for giving him one more thorn in the side to deal with over the voyage.

"If you shoo' 'im enough, I'm sure 'e'll just keel over and kick it one of the times," he declared with a sort of pride and confidence reserved only for when he was certain about things.