He strides up the deck, coming to a stop in front of (no one at all the only real thing) Del. Jack pays no attention to her, glaring instead at the tattooed man who's busy wrapping a knot around a stanchion at her side.
"Mister Sparrow?" he snaps.
("Aye, Captain.")
Jack gestures at the (completely tied) half-finished knot. "What say you about the condition of this tack line?"
("It looks proper to my eyes, sir.")
"Proper?" Jack snarls harshly at (empty air) Jack. "It is neither proper nor suitable, sir! It is not acceptable nor adequate, it is, in obvious fact, an abomination."
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He strides up the deck, coming to a stop in front of (no one at all the only real thing) Del. Jack pays no attention to her, glaring instead at the tattooed man who's busy wrapping a knot around a stanchion at her side.
"Mister Sparrow?" he snaps.
("Aye, Captain.")
Jack gestures at the (completely tied) half-finished knot. "What say you about the condition of this tack line?"
("It looks proper to my eyes, sir.")
"Proper?" Jack snarls harshly at (empty air) Jack. "It is neither proper nor suitable, sir! It is not acceptable nor adequate, it is, in obvious fact, an abomination."