All the restless, itchy feelings that Jack’s been suffering this evening surge and lurch and swell.  Along with other, more physickal parts.  He leans forward on the table, dizzy with something new and strange.

“You watched me?”

The pirate leans forward too, his face lively with mischief.  “I watched you.  And – if I may be so bold as to confess it – I liked what I watched.  It was distinctly... inspirational.”

Internally, Jack preens.  Externally, he scowls.  “You’re bold indeed.  Some would say foolhardy.”

“Others would say backed up by numerous mates.”

Silence.  They watch each other.  Well, Jack mostly watches Sparrow’s mouth. It’s a startling mouth, for a man.  Beard and moustache can’t disguise its blatant kissability.  Is it Jack’s fault that the idea of mouths, and their potential conjunctions with other bodily areas, has been raised?  It is not.

Would this Sparrow really... ?  Really?  It certainly seems to be what he’s implying.

Jack’s never done that before, not with a bloke.  But this certainly seems like a fine evening to try. So:

“Was it inspirational enough that you might consider a re-enactment?” he asks.

A slow, purely wicked smile. “Depends... on whether it’s a mutual re-enactment, mate.”

Whoa.  That takes Jack a little by surprise.  He drains his cup, takes a moment to consider.

Well?  Is it yay or nay?

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