tampered | LOG: Ongoing (Cupid Day)

When: Starts July 17th, just before midnight
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Jack Sparrow, James Norrington, open to others
Summary: Jack and Norrington decide to settle their differences like men...
Log:

Jack Sparrow may love his ship, but it's known to run short on rum and he may love the sea, but she is a teasing minx who is rare to return affections and somewhat lacking in the areas of hips and bosom. And so, he seeks strong drink and pleasing company in the dark of the underworld, in the noise and light of one of the first bar he comes upon. "And whose great pleasure shall it be to buy Captain Jack Sparrow a drink?"

"Mine." Says a bitter voice from a stool in the corner. "If you don't terribly mind what sort of thing happens to be in it." Norrington unfolded from out of the darkness, scruffy and unshaven. He had been sitting quietly nursing a drink and waiting till he woke up out of this mad recurring dream again, but the infuriating sound of his arch-nemesis' voice awoke him from his stupour.

Sparrow pulls back, hands coming up and lip curling in an exaggerated display of disgust. "Sorry, mate. Think I'll have to pass." He gives in to the necessity to make payment for his alcohol and lays a handful of coin on the bar in trade for a bottle. The pirate opts for a dark, aged rum, as it's the closest he can get come to what he's used to.
He offers a grin to Norrington as he plays at being a gentleman and actually uses a glass. "And just how long has the good commodore been down here drowning his various sorrows and pickling his insides? You need yourself a woman, mate."

Norrington returns the sneer and takes another swig of whatever lethal cocktail of alcohol he's on at the moment. "Women." He spat, drunkenly. "To hell with women. There's nothing but teenage harlots around here anyway." He staggered forward slightly. "I suppose...t...that's not terrible different from what I'm used to at the moment, thanks to the situation you and your friends put me in, damn your eyes."

Taking a long, thoughtful drink from the bottle, Jack shrugs at Norrington. "Afraid William Turner has the young woman you favour. I've no interest in ruining your life. I've better things to spend m'time on than worrying over the misery of a rum-pot, alley-sleeping ex-commodore. Savvy?" Jack laughs, shaking his head at the pathetic sight before him and takes another deep pull of the bottle.

Norrington's fists clenched into balls. "How dare you. You mangy, dishonourable, addle-pated, gibbering excuse for a disgusting pirate."

Jack's eyes narrow with the sting of anger. It takes longer than he's like to shake it off and keep up that smug and persistent smirk. "Look here, mate, throw all the compliments you like. Doesn' change that I'm a great and recognized captain and you, good commodore, are... nothing at all anymore, come t'think of it".

The good ex-commodore's eyes narrow as he sees the smirk slip just for a moment, and drunken malice overcomes what's left of his better self. "I'm more than you'll ever be, no matter how low you drive me, my "good" man. I at least was once something, and God willing, will be again. You, however, will always be scum. You were born scum, and you'll still be scum when the fish, or possibly the gulls are feeding on what's left of your corpse." He folded his arms, and then had to steady himself on the table as his balance shifted.

Old anger, old as childhood, and recent fear mingle and boil to the surface in Jack. He slams his bottle down hard on the bar top and glares at the fallen naval officer before him. "You miserable, filthy, piss-stinking git! If you'd stayed clear of my way, none of this wretched fate would have been upon you...but it is and, you moaning sow, I am glad of it! If we're to see who's the better man, than let's have at it!" Jack moves away from the bar, feet spaced apart and ready to fight. Hands or swords, it's all the same to him. Anyone who had ever served under the man would know this is a clear sign the good Captain's had far too much to drink. He'll never welcome an honest fight sober. Not if there are ways around it.

"Finally!" The ex-commodore shook his fist. "So you can fight like a man. Who knew it?" He moved into a boxer's semi-crouch and brought his fists up to defend his face.. "Believe you me, Sparrow, I shan't be following the Marques of Queensbury rules." Now if only he could work out which Sparrow he could see was actually going to hit him. He'd take them both on if necessary!

As to Jack's ability to fight like a man: He has seen it done before and it looked simple enough. Most of the time, he simply ends up drawing a gun or being saved by a shipmate when things come to fisticuffs for him, though. "Oh I shan't be held to any such rules either, mate. Trust to that." This has more to do with not knowing them.
Jack sways, fists held up at odd and wrong angles and far too much of his body open to attack. Finally, he lunges in and takes a stumbling swing at Norrington's jaw.

Luckily, despite being well over his limit, Norrington has just enough gentlemanly fist-fighting ability to duck the right hook. What he doesn't have is the balance, nor sufficient sobriety to recover from stepping back out of the way and treading on a discarded beer bottle, and falling like an idiot, whilst grabbing wildly for whatever he can flail at.

Jack grins triumphantly, despite having little to do with his opponent's fall. This is, of course, until his wrist is caught by Norrington's desperately grabbing hands and Jack is pulled off of his own feet as well. He falls, hands flailing, as the clock begins to chime in the distance. He lands atop the commodore and scrambles awkwardly to pull his hat from where it tumbled across the floor. "Oof.. Let off me, mate!" He clamors up onto his hands as the bells finish tolling and time seems to stand still as his eyes lock with those of the man under him. His tongue unconsciously pokes out just enough to wet his lips. “D’you come by this pub floor often? I might find cause t’ frequent it.” Jack grins, sly and wicked and wanton.

As midnight strikes, Norrington's eyes widen in terror as he realizes the situation he is in, pinned by his worst enemy. At the mercy of Jack Sparrow, that notorious pirate. That notorious, suddenly extremely attractive pirate...those wicked, doe eyes, that delicate mouth, just ripe for...
He reaches up to entangle a hand in Jack's tangled locks and drags the unresisting pirate back down to him...

The emotion of the moment is already almost too much to take, so when James Norrington’s strong, able fingers work their way into his hair and command the pirate to yield, Jack gives up everything. He lets slip the upper hand and lets a sigh escape his lips before they’re pressed firm and warm against the waiting mouth of his captor. One hand moves to press against James’ strong chest and feel his rushing heartbeat as the other cups to the commodore’s gloriously rugged jaw-line. Jack’s hat is left abandoned and forgotten at arm’s length. It hardly seems important now…

((Feel free to have your character be a witness to this. React and respond accordingly. Also, I dare s))