Jack was checking up on Aaron when he strode onto the beach.
A tricorn perched askew on long dreadlocks, tanned skin, clothes from another century, an ancient-looking pistol in one hand and a sword in another; from the way he walked, unsteady on his feet, Jack would have bet on either a sunstroke, or too much alcohol.
"I demand rum!" the man shouted on top of his voice.
Alcohol, then.
Jack handed Aaron back to Claire and stood up to go see the newcomer.
"Sure, dude," Hurley was telling him. "You a Dodgeball fan or something?"
The man peered at Hurley curiously.
"I mean the movie, not the sport. Steve the Pirate? Yaarrrr?"
The man took a step back, a grimace on his face. "I do not yarrr. I leave that to baser pirates. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."
"You're who now?" Jack asked as he walked up to him.
The man puffed up his chest. "Captain Jack Sparrow." Off their blank looks, he added, "Surely you've heard of me. ...I sacked Nassau Port without even firing a shot! Vanished from under the eyes of seven agents of the East India Company!" And, with a fond grin, "It involved a nun's outfit."
"Dude, and I thought I had issues," Hurley muttered.
Captain Jack Sparrow stamped his foot down on the sandy ground. "It makes no matter! I'm still a pirate, and I seem to have misplaced my rum, and I am come to commandeer yours!" He looked at Jack, having clearly pinned him for the one to talk to. After a few seconds, Jack opened his mouth to answer when the pirate cut in with a wave of his hand, and thus of his sword. "I know, I know, nautical term, not to be used on alcohol, but we're not exactly in good society here, are we." That made him frown, and look around at the camp before leaning close to Jack to murmur. "...what kind of a society are we in exactly?"
"We survived a plane crash," Jack answered slowly.
"A plane crash..." Captain Sparrow repeated, and it was clear that the words meant nothing to him. "A plane crash, right, of course. Well. Do you have rum?"
"No."
"Right. I suppose I'll be on my way, then. My deepest thanks. For your cooperation in my search for rum."
Still frowning, and clearly thinking the lot of them absolute lunatics, Captain Sparrow strode back into the forest. Jack scratched at the back of his head, grimacing, and then sighed. "Well. Better go after him."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-05-13 04:26 pm (UTC)A tricorn perched askew on long dreadlocks, tanned skin, clothes from another century, an ancient-looking pistol in one hand and a sword in another; from the way he walked, unsteady on his feet, Jack would have bet on either a sunstroke, or too much alcohol.
"I demand rum!" the man shouted on top of his voice.
Alcohol, then.
Jack handed Aaron back to Claire and stood up to go see the newcomer.
"Sure, dude," Hurley was telling him. "You a Dodgeball fan or something?"
The man peered at Hurley curiously.
"I mean the movie, not the sport. Steve the Pirate? Yaarrrr?"
The man took a step back, a grimace on his face. "I do not yarrr. I leave that to baser pirates. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."
"You're who now?" Jack asked as he walked up to him.
The man puffed up his chest. "Captain Jack Sparrow." Off their blank looks, he added, "Surely you've heard of me. ...I sacked Nassau Port without even firing a shot! Vanished from under the eyes of seven agents of the East India Company!" And, with a fond grin, "It involved a nun's outfit."
"Dude, and I thought I had issues," Hurley muttered.
Captain Jack Sparrow stamped his foot down on the sandy ground. "It makes no matter! I'm still a pirate, and I seem to have misplaced my rum, and I am come to commandeer yours!" He looked at Jack, having clearly pinned him for the one to talk to. After a few seconds, Jack opened his mouth to answer when the pirate cut in with a wave of his hand, and thus of his sword. "I know, I know, nautical term, not to be used on alcohol, but we're not exactly in good society here, are we." That made him frown, and look around at the camp before leaning close to Jack to murmur. "...what kind of a society are we in exactly?"
"We survived a plane crash," Jack answered slowly.
"A plane crash..." Captain Sparrow repeated, and it was clear that the words meant nothing to him. "A plane crash, right, of course. Well. Do you have rum?"
"No."
"Right. I suppose I'll be on my way, then. My deepest thanks. For your cooperation in my search for rum."
Still frowning, and clearly thinking the lot of them absolute lunatics, Captain Sparrow strode back into the forest. Jack scratched at the back of his head, grimacing, and then sighed. "Well. Better go after him."