Merely Players

Act Three

by

Hippediva & Elessil

His hair was wordlessly pulled back, and a blanket draped over his shoulders, barely covered by the chemise. "Morning sickness?" It could have sounded mocking, but there was a strange hint of sympathy to it.

Jack retched again, by way of an answer. He continued, loudly, until his stomach was empty and even then continued until he gulped in a breath of air and sagged under Norrington's hands. "Oh. My. God!" he moaned, gulping back more sour saliva. "I'm dyin'."

"No, you are not, you are hungover. Little wonder after what you drank yesterday." James pulled him to his feet, righting him against the balustrade to fetch a glass of water, refined with a splash of rum. He had seen more than one drunk man in his time, and he still remembered the helpful morning tortures among midshipmen after a long shoreleave. He wiped Sparrow's lips with a wet towel, then pressed another to his forehead.

"Bury me at sea. I'm not gonna make it." Jack struggled with his stomach, his throbbing head and the stained chemise. "Thanks, mate." He held the cool towel to his forehead. "Get a priest. Get a minister. GET SOME RUM!"

James wisely held his laughter back, only grinned. "If you must shout, then behave yourself like a lady. Next time, I will leave the rum atop the cupboard." He lifted the glass with watered rum to Sparrow's lips. "There, easy now."

Jack sipped at the water, the rum tingling on his tongue. At least it washed away the taste of sour wine vomit. "Ohhhh." he moaned and sagged in James' grip. "Lemme lay down fer a bit. Else it's all gonna come back up again."

James was torn between amusement and pity, settling for pulling the blanket around him and rewetting the towel.

There was a knock on the door and James carefully covered Jack again, hid the decanter and hoped that the smell of vomit would be stronger than that of rum. He opened, dishevelled himself, but far more presentable.

"Señor? Señor, come esta Madame? She is mal, no?" The housekeeper, neat and proper in black, was attended by two maids.

She pushed her way into the room and sniffed, making for Jack immediately. "Pobrecita! Mija, let me help you!"

The maids quickly brought in a bucket and mop and had the balcony spotless in minutes. Señora was trying to get the soiled chemise off Jack who was ready to scream. "James, help?" He pointed to the wardrobe with a pained glance.

James swallowed all curses and went between them, kneeling at the bedside . He took Jack's hand, stroked it, then smiled sweetly at the housekeeper, trying to explain in Spanish how his wife was very modest and preferred not to accept any help, hinting that it only made her feel yet more helpless and miserable. That it would be best to give her the means to clean herself up and remove what she considered as a shame to herself and her husband.

It was difficult with a knowledge of the language that was focused most on general conversation, warfare and trade, but he supported it with smiles and urgent nods, and if he had no other choice, one or the other word in English.

Jack had gathered the coverlet around himself, part of him shrieking to stay hidden, listening to James with a heartfelt sigh of relief. He then proceeded to forestall more conversation by half-sitting, one hand pressed to his mouth. Both Señora and the Commodore held the basin for him. He choked and gasped and turned away, disgusted with himself and whatever blithering bastard had thought it a good idea to ferment grapes.

James held his hair back, then wiped his lips again, still stuttering in urgent Spanish to the housekeeper. He remembered Sparrow's words from yesterday and thought that perhaps, they could provide ample distraction. He asked if it was possible for his wife to bathe.

Señora watched them with a smile. "Si. Si, of course, Señor. Su mujer will be much happier." She rose and clapped her hands for the maids and all three abruptly disappeared to spread the tale of how loving the handsome actor was with his wife and how she must be a gentle creature to need such care! So unlike the usual run of mountebanks and whores who came to San Felipe.

As soon as they were out, James jumped to his feet, rummaged through the wardrobe until, with a sigh of relief, he found something that would pass as bathing gown. He tossed it at Sparrow and pulled the blanket away. "There, put that on before they are back."

Jack groaned and forced himself to sit up, wobbling. "Oh good God, I think I'm gonna expire." He took the gown and pulled off the sodden chemise, pitching it across the room. As soon as he was free of its stench, he felt better. He pulled on the bathing gown and blinked at James. "Don't tell me we got a rehearsal or I swear I'll kill ya."

"No rehearsal. A performance of the Lucrece in the evening," James muttered, picking up the chemise to soak it in the basin. It stank of vomit, of rum and semen, and he had no wish to have a maid start new gossip.

Jack groaned and weakly pushed the pot away from his face, huddling into the coverlet. "Perfect. Jus' what I was hopin'." He hitched the filmy gown around his shoulders and raised his head. "Shite, did she notice these?" He held up one twisted dreadlock. "Help me pin 'em up."

James did, clumsily taking the hairpins from the dressing table and tucking the dreadlocks under the remaining hair, not as skillfully as Fernando, but well enough. "Never again," he muttered to himself.

Jack sniffled and looked up at him appealingly. Odd, that he would remember the short formality that had condemned the pirate and sent him to the gallows. There had been no such plea then, only a stony stare and a cheeky grin. Now, he looked almost helpless.

"Never wot? Thanks." He twisted the few remaining locks under the rest of his hair and secured it with shaking fingers.

"Anything that could lead to me playing actor and worrying about hiding a pirate's prick."

Quickly, he lathered Sparrow's face and shaved him—not that there was much growth, but still, better that than to find a shadow of hair there later.

Jack submitted to it meekly, his face pale and wan under its tan. They would need Fernando and the powder very soon. He managed a weak smile. "Y'hid it jus' fine last night." His eyes were a little more alert, but it was obvious he was still in pain. "Wot manner of devilment ya think they'll do t'me?"

His question was answered in the next moment when a knock was followed by two footmen carrying a steaming tub, along with both maids and the housekeeper.

"Va, Señora. Come, we make you feel better." She helped Jack to his feet, imperiously pushing James away and settling the ailing 'actress' into the hot bath.

James approached the bath and again tried his best smile, attempting to explain how this was not necessary, that surely she had different duties to attend to, that he was used to attending his wife himself and would gladly do so.

Señora raised a stern face from where she was gently pushing sweet-scented soap into 'Mariella's' fingers. "You go and get food. We will help her. Pobrecita!" She shooed him away and he found himself outside the door, terrified as to what might happen behind it.

Jack listened to everything in a haze of pain, his head throbbing as cannonfire banged through his temples. Fortunately, his survival instincts were drink-proof. He hunched forward to hide the distinct lack of bosom and took the soap gratefully. "Gracias, Señora. Lo siento, Dios mio."

As he expected, she shushed him and the maids quickly scented the room with cologne and chattered while he managed to get the lower half of his face washed, wondering if soap tasted any better than his mouth.

James nervously prowled in front of the room, waiting for any shriek that would announce the discovery of Mariella's rather less womanly anatomy. Once, a maid came out to bow and smile at him, assuring him that there was no necessity for him to be worried about his good wife, that she was in excellent hands. How to explain he was worried about exactly that?

Jack's head throbbed a little less violently and he wanted to throw all three of them over the balcony and just lay back, enjoying the hot water, but restrained that regrettable impulse. He almost shrieked when Señora unpinned his hair, clucking at the woolly dreadlocks but making no comment except to curse the nasty miser of an owner who forced any woman to ruin such lovely hair to save a few pesos.

James spun around when there were further noises from the staircase. No maid this time, but the fine Commandante. He stifled another curse, smiled and bowed stiffly. "Good morning, Sir."

The stiff uniform seemed to bow by itself. "Señor. Your wife, she is well? I had heard she was ill." His posture was fearsomely straight and tall, hand on his swordhilt, chin high.

James stared back coolly, then smiled again, barely. "Not ill, Sir, not if you do not call a child an illness. Yet, she is feeling unwell. I fear the past day has exhausted her."

Don Jaime drew himself up to his full height, eye level with James. "A brave woman! And such trials they suffer."

The door opened and the maids scurried out, carrying away the chamber pot, the soiled chemise and giggling.

Señora followed, bowing to James and the Commandante. "Senores. Your wife is resting, sir. She begged me to leave her to her prayers. You should thank Heaven for such a jewel. She thinks only of the child."

Jack waited until they left and yanked up the soggy cambric to wash his prick and the stickier areas behind it, cussing under his breath. He made short work it and lounged in the tub, the dress pulled up to his chest, both legs dangling, feeling much better than he had upon waking.

He never knew that not having tits could be such a bother.

Outside, James smiled sweetly and nodded his thanks. "Gracias, Señora. As you will certainly understand, I am most worried about her, even more so in this condition. I will see to her now, if you will excuse me, Commandante?"

There was a female shriek below the stairs and both men poked their heads over the railing to see one of the maids run through the hall being chased by a footman. The Commandante arched one aristocratic brow. "Of course, sir. Your servant."

Jack got out of the bath to get the rum and found a bundle of good cigars on the nightstand. Dripping water on the carpet, the thin linen clinging to him, he lit one, grabbed the rum and settled himself back in the tub for a nice, long soak.

James peered down, heard another shriek and stifled a curse. Certainly, Sparrow would be able to manage a few minutes on his own. James was not a nursemaid, after all. He bowed and rushed down the staircase, gauging the situation and attempting to separate the eager footman from his unwilling victim.

Don Jaime smirked. It seemed the fine actor thought himself a hero not only on stage. All the better. The housekeeper had disappeared, and he had not reached his position by being faint of heart when he wanted something, so he opened the door and walked into the room.

"Madame? Are you well?"

Jack choked out a lungful of smoke and shoved the cigar into the water. "James? Darling, please! I just want to rest."

He frantically scrabbled with the soaked gown, pulling one of the towels in with him and pouting over the loss of a good smoke. He slugged back as much rum as he could and hid the bottle next to the tub.

"Your husband is otherwise occupied." Don Jaime's eyes hungrily studied the tub, imagining what the white linens hid. "I merely wished to convince myself of your well-being. I heard you had a horrible night."

Jack's eyes went wide and he turned an interesting shade of tawny red. "Commandante! Sir, what is the meaning of this. I'm alone here and..."

He looked down at the water and watched the cigar float like a turd next to his hip. He sat on it and yanked the wet towel up to his chin, pulling his hair forward. "I'm not in the habit of entertaining gentlemen in the bath, sir. You have me at a cruel disadvantage!"

"Madame, I beg you not to see it as a disadvantage, much less a cruel one." He took several steps forward, until he stood between the bathtub and the bed. "It is difficult enough to see you once without your husband present." He smiled, but it was rather like a panther readying to pounce.

Jack stared up at him in real horror. How was he to get out of the tub, not reveal a lot of skin that most women did not possess and still keep the Spaniard on the hook, just to tease Norrington? His brain skipped a beat or two and he looked up at the hard, handsome face.

"My husband is brand new and understandably anxious." He laughed into his hand and grimaced at the blast of tobacco and rum on his own breath. "But I grow chill, Don Jaime, and so has the water. Pray, give me leave to dress and greet you properly." His hair was a rat's nest, he was dripping wet, stinking of cigar and soap. That should have been enough to put off any man.

"But of course, Madame. Forgive me for forgetting my manners." The Commandante was stubborn and did not leave, but simply turned around to allow her to step out of the water, imagining it dripping down slim thighs with a sly grin.

Jack slid behind the dressing screen, stepped on the soap and nearly fell. He clung to the screen, quivering and peered over the top. Damn, the man was persistent. He yanked off the dripping gown and looked around for something else to wear, finding nothing. Oh bugger!

"Commandante, could I beg a favour? My gown is, I believe on the bed. I do not have the luxury of a proper maid. Could you hand it to me?" 'Mariella's' voice was sugar sweet.

"Certainly, Madame." A few moments, the rustle of fabric and the gown appeared behind the dressing screen, but the Spaniard edged closer and closer, and would not let go of the dress. "Would you like... assistance?"

"Oh sir, dear me, no! I'm in no fit state!" Damned right I ain't. My prick's hanging lose, the damned gown's open in front and I don't have another shimmy! Jack glared heavenward. "Y'know, I bloody hate You!" he muttered.

He slung on the gown, holding it closed and almost walked right into Don Jaime, who had been straining for a peek through the screen. "Naughty man!" He giggled and grinned, watched the damned cigar pop to the surface of the water and tossed the towel on top of it. Where the bloody hell was his loving 'husband'?

"I am so glad of your concern, sir. " He offered one hand, pulling the lace down over the bronzed wrist and the tattoo.

Don Jaime took it, bent to kiss it and was just about to yank 'Mariella' closer when the door opened again to admit James, who quickly hid his shock with a polite nod. "Mariella. Commandante."

"Oh darling, I was wondering where you had disappeared. Don Jaime has been good enough to look after me." Jack bridled and winked at the Spaniard, gliding towards the bed and gathering the red material around himself. "Don Jaime, where in Spain is your home? I thought the Governor said Seville?"

He eyed the cigars and the Commandante's hungry gaze and hid his grin with a silvery laugh. His hangover was quite gone, thanks to the rum and he was more than ready for a few fireworks.

"The good Governor is a wise man. I certainly hope that your troupe will find its way there one day. If you do, allow me to offer my hospitality, and I would be most disappointed if you did not accept it." The Commandante's hand brushed Jack's waist in passing, as if by coincidence.

James cursed under his breath and edged between the two, still smiling as though he had noticed nothing. "My wife, are you well? I was so worried about you."

"Dearest, I'm perfectly well now. And quite refreshed although, "Jack leaned close enough to whisper, "Ain't got a shimmy on! Find one!"

He leaned over and plucked out one of the cigars. "I wonder, sir, are these as good as those rolled in Seville? I should so love to see the city with you." He rolled it between his fingers, stroking obscenely and raised it to his lips. The Spaniard's eyes widened, then grew hot. Oho! So the Commandante liked 'em fast an' feisty. He waited for one of the gentlemen to strike a flint.

James decided to go looking for underwear. "Dear, should you really smoke in your delicate condition?" Disapproval was edged in his tone, but the Commandante already lit it.

"Sir, you should cherish your wife and her state; reading every wish from her lips."

Jack sucked in smoke and let it drift in lazy currents from his lips. "Excellent. And alas, I should not. It's a terrible habit, is it not, Don Jaime?" His dark eyes were as seductive as a cat's and he took another puff before handing the cigar to the Commandante. "James, my love, my own. Have you found those items yet? Don Jaime, I'm overcome by your kindness."

"It is naught but what you deserve." Don Jaime was glaring at James who glared back, both their lips curled into the most pleasant smiles.

Then James turned. "No, Mariella, I have not. I shall do so at once. Commandante, if you forgive me." He went behind the dressing screen, sifting through the wardrobe for another shift.

"Don Jaime, you must forgive me, I really should make myself presentable." Jack laughed softly as the Commandante held the cigar at his lips, trying very hard to get a look down past the lace collar. He puffed out the smoke and tapped him on the wrist. "Very naughty. My husband will be furious!" he murmured in a quite audible stage whisper.

Oh, yes, he will be. James was fit to strangle Jack right then and there, but he gave no sign that he had heard at all, keeping himself in the background.

Don Jaime kissed 'her' hand again, winking. "Of course. Forgive the interruption. Perhaps you can spare me a moment... later?"

"Any number of them to so kind a gentleman. A bientot." Jack winked back and watched James' eyes almost cross with fury as the door closed. "God, I thought I was gonna die! Where were ya?"

"I prevented a maid from being used as the whore you present yourself as!" James snarled, then tossed a chemise on the bed. "There, dearest. Dress yourself, or do you need the good Commandante's assistance for that?"

"I was tryin' t'keep him distracted an' me bits covered!" Jack retorted, pulling off the gown and struggling to get the chemise over his head. "Y'know, you two are well on yer way to a duel. That'll be a new one!" He reluctantly trudged over to retrieve the corset. "I'm startin' t'hate this thing."

"And I already hate this situation." James helped him with the corset, pulling it tight once before relenting and lacing it loosely. "Do you believe I am blind? If you want to parade yourself as a woman, perhaps I should make you one."

Jack backed away at the last words. "No thanks awfully, but I'm rather fond of me ballocks as they are! Why're you bein' so damned dreadful? I did th'best I could!"

He was pouting and moaned as the laces drew too tight, then breathed a sigh of relief when James loosened them. "Mate, it'll keep him off his guard. Besides, wot else was I t'do? I couldn't exactly discuss coastal currents wif him!"

"No, but perhaps a little less flirting would have lessened his interest, and to promise him 'any number of moments' perhaps is not the wisest path to ward off his advances. Do you think you could have kept your cover for much longer if I hadn't arrived?"

"I can always bash him over th' head with something." Jack's eyes danced, then went soft. "Don't be so damned angry. Jesus, ya think I knew wot t'do when he came in here an' I'm in the bleedin' tub? Not exactly like I can challenge him, eh?" He was a little too close. "Besides, I don't like him one bit." He lips curved into a maddening smile.

For God's sake, was Sparrow now flirting with him as well? Bad enough that he had let himself get carried away the night before. "I fail to see how that last cigar and your 'whisper' had anything to do with your being in the tub. If you flaunt yourself like that in front of your husband, he cannot but think you a whore open to his advances."

"James, you ever had a mistress?" Jack was busy, pulling on the worn velvet gown. His fingers toyed with the tarnished braid at the neckline.

"I fail to see how that concerns you or this situation at all." James used mirror and fresh basin to groom himself, itching to shave when he knew he shouldn't.

"Haven't y'ever watched how women manage us? They flirt an' tease an' keep us all guessin'. Not a bad diversion, t'be honest." Jack stretched as much as he could and went to retrieve the decanter by the tub. "Here, have a drink an' try t'relax. After all, I'm only really here for you, luv."

"It is barely past nine. I certainly will not drink now. And I would rather you behaved yourself more chastely." James groaned and scratched at the beard. "Oh, and Fernando will be here in a moment to take care of your hair and face."

Jack shrugged, wishing James would at least look at him. He slid the high-heeled shoes on and crept behind Norrington, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Chaste it is then? Y'think they've got a nun's habit in the trunks?"

James rolled his eyes. "You know very well what I mean."

Jack reached to touch his cheek, biting his lip. "If it gets me close to 'em, wot's the harm? Not like I'm gonna take either of 'em off fer a shag." James remained obdurate and Jack tried his sweetest, most wheedling tone. "Please? I can't keep my wits about me if yer gonna be angry all day." His eyes were velvet soft. "An' thank you fer takin' care of me this morn. Felt like th' bloody devil."

"You are the bloody devil, sent to torment me for my sins and tempt me to more, such as buggery and murder." James glared. "And what if they interpret your flirting so far that they are taking you off for a shag? Have you thought about that?"

Jack laughed softly. "Mate, d'ya really think anyone could force me? An' me so fearsome a brigand? Come now, James! I know our lives are at stake. An' tis better t'keep 'em close. That way ya know wot they're up to."

He leaned closer. "Course, I might not fight so hard, dependin' on who's doin' the 'carryin' off'." His smile was irrepressible as he sat down at the dressing table and brushed out his hair, wiping away the smeared kohl and rouge.

"Both our lives are at stake if they realise you are a man. Which is rather difficult to miss... from a closer point of view." James coughed and turned away, resolutely not watching how those lips were red and slightly swollen even without the paint.

"James?" Jack's voice was soft.

When he turned back, Jack wound both arms around his neck. "I know." He grinned and for the first time, James realised he had a dimple lingering around the right corner of his mouth, like a hidden kiss.

James' eyes snapped closed and he sighed softly before he pulled away. "If you know, why act like this?"

Jack kissed him. "Because it's a lark. Just because we've both got ourselves into a jam and have t'use our brains to get out of it don't mean it can't be fun." He traced one finger alone the scruffy line of beard on Norrington's jaw. "I like it. Suits you."

James knew the thrill of danger, knew it very well. After all, it was why he had chosen the life he lived. "But to seek additional danger for no reason as all is foolish." He chuckled softly. "It is dreadful and it itches. I don't know how you could bear yours."

Jack drew him down onto the tufted stool in front of the dressing table and perched on his lap. "Pure vanity! Clearly, you've never been on a pirate ship, mate. No one takes a word y'say seriously until you've a scrap o'whisker. Musta taken me three-four years to grow it. I'm heartbroke."

He could not have behaved less heartbroken, and Fernando threw open the door to stare at the 'happy couple', Mariella cooing on her husband's knee.

He coughed, then clapped his hands in delight. "Such a sweet pair." He came closer. "Very convincing, I must say. Mariella, I am heartbroken. Watch out, for he is a rogue." He pushed James out of the way and worked on Jack's hair. "Now let me. Dear God, what have you done to my creation?"

"Tried t'sleep," Jack muttered, still watching James in the mirror. "An' don't stick the damned pins inta me skull! Listen, mate. We've a bit of a problem." He pushed Fernando's hands away to fix his eyes, then sat demurely and let him pin the curling black mane into shape again.

"A problem? And that with you so high in the Governor's and the Commandante's favour, and so devout a husband? That is most difficult to believe." Fernando cheerfully arranged the hair into neat order, hiding the dreadlocks once more, then powdered Jack's face so heavily that there was a cloud of it.

"Yea, well, the problem is—stop shoving it up me nose—I'm fighting both of 'em off at ev'ry turn. It's bound t'get a bit dangerous. Dammit, don't pull!" He gritted his teeth as Fernando pasted the beauty mark right next to that dimple, caught James' eyes, watching in the mirror and closed his own, the lashes feathery.

"Oh, so I made you too pretty? Irresistible, so to speak?" Fernando winked at James, who promptly coloured a little. "Mariella had a certain... reputation. I fear that is what is expected of an actress as pretty as you."

"I rather suspected it." Jack pulled two long curls over his shoulder and considered the effect. The velvet beauty mark drew the eye to his mouth and it was certainly a pretty pair of lips, now rouged and seeming fuller and softer than they had yesterday.

Fernando missed nothing as Jack fussed with the rest of his toilette, then rose majestically, stalked to the freshened chamber pot and hitched his skirts up to take a piss.

"Oh, don't start wif me. A man's gotta pizzle if he must!"

Fernando broke into outright laughter. "You are spoiling the effect! I was so proud of myself! Cheri, watch out. We are in Nueva España. Only worse are the French. It seems each spouse here is lonely because the other betrays them. Not that the Commandante's wife was not most generous..." He winked and giggled at James' startled huff.

"Where is she? Gossipin' with her gaggle? And the Guv'nor's a widower is he not?" Jack finished and gave his prick a shake, stepping back to let the skirt fall and the illusion covered him once more. "Don't you go makin' me poor luv here nervous. Or, " Mariella's eyes were quite suddenly dangerous, the same eyes that could look over a smoking deck or assess a prize with ease. "I might have t'take exception to this whole bloody charade."

Fernando laughed. "And he such a charming rogue! I wager he could pick his choice between the fine young widows and not-so-fine wives."

James glared.

Fernando shrugged. "Then send them over to me, I shall be glad to comfort them."

James sputtered and Fernando clapped his shoulder. "Of course, I forgot. The good faithful husband."

Sparrow would normally have laughed heartily, but something in James' face made him stop, smiling. "He's as good a rogue as ever lived, mate. And a damn brave one." Jack pointed at Fernando, an unconscious imitation of AnaMaria. "Don't you forget it. Now, wot has dear Solomon planned fer us t'day?"

Fernando giggled. "As our fine lead actress is in such a delicate state, rehearsal shan't take place. But the performance in the eve cannot be cancelled, and we all rely on our violated Lucrece and her Tarquin for a most fine performance."

At 'delicate state' James' gaze got darker and he spoke for the first time since Fernando had entered. "Fernando, I warn you. If you invent any additional tales about my marital 'prowess', your own shall be in significant danger."

Jack kept his mouth shut. The way Fernando's eyes were lit up, he was quite sure they had been heard whilst prowling in the halls, as it were. He even coloured a bit and caught sight of himself in the mirror, shook his head and went to light another cigar.

Fernando took it from his fingers and cheerfully puffed clouds of smoke. "Really, smoking does not become a lady at all. My, the stench alone!" He cheerfully drew more puffs, the first to completely and utterly ignore James Norrington's eyes narrowing dangerously in a very, very long time.

"Dammit, that's the third one this mornin'! Can't a bloke get a smoke without someone pinchin' it or making him have t'stow it in the bath." Jack walked to James and laid a hand on his arm. "James. Jamie, fun. Remember?"

"Ha. Ha. Ha."

Fernando clapped his hands again. "Why yes, we are showing a comedy this night! A lot of fun to be found." He peered between the two, swallowed hard and bowed. "Exeunt." He disappeared through the door.

Jack looked up at Norrington's face, white and strained and angry, sparks of amber flaring in the green eyes, his wide mouth set in a thin line. "C'mon, luv. He's gone. You mus' be gettin' hungry. Shall we see wot's available fer breakfast?"

James looked down, breathed deeply and composed himself. Impatience would not serve, nor would anger. Control. He stood and offered his arm. "We shall, dearest wife."

Jack took his arm, stopped and pulled him into another swift kiss. "You, my husband, are a fine man." He took a deep breath, smoothed his skirts and nodded. "Let's eat. I'm starvin'."

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