Sparrow lounged insolently on the narrow cot, or at least as insolently as he could locked in the small cell. Under the circumstances he thought he was doing fairly well. His act however did not seem to be fooling the commodore, who was currently standing on the other side of the bars, the right side of the bars Sparrow idly thought. Despite standing as stiff and formal as if he was on the parade ground, there was a definite aura of smugness radiating off him.

With a long-suffering sigh Sparrow stood, "What am I to you? Why are you so keen to see me caught?" Norrington's obvious enjoyment of Sparrow's current predicament, was beginning to grate somewhat, so he was more than happy to bait the sanctimonious fool. "Is it pride?" He sashayed a little closer to the bars, "You're still sore that I got away from you before." He was rewarded by Norrington bristling a little, but to give him credit, he covered it quickly enough.

"Pride? Do I have an overwhelming urge to be known as the man who clipped 'Captain' Jack Sparrow's wings? I take pride in my job, but in answer to your question, no Sparrow, ordinarily I wouldn't waste my time giving you a second thought."

"Is it envy?"

Norrington looked at him, "What would you have that I would possibly envy?"

Sparrow shrugged, "Freedom." When Norrington looked pointedly at the bars, Sparrow tapped his own head, "Up here, Commodore."

Norrington cocked his head and treated him to that annoyingly superior smirk that Sparrow was becoming all too familiar with.

"Is it lust?" He leered suggestively; the smirk vanished as Norrington folded his arms and rolled his eyes.

By this stage Sparrow was standing mere inches away, now genuinely interested. "Why Commodore?"

Norrington watched him for a moment longer. "Diligence, Sparrow. Diligence." Before turning on his heel and stalking away.