Purple sin

Market in Port Royal, a lovely morning. Commodore Norrington rushes his way through the crowd, here and there greeting the people who recognize him.
"Greasy chickens, ready to eat!" Norrington shakes his head and pushes away the drumstick that was held right under his nose. Although this officially is his morning off he has better things to do.

"Red and white wines, legally delivered!" Despite this message -or more likely due to this exclamation- Norrington turns to see the market vendor who claimed that.
"You!?" is his reaction as he notices Jack Sparrow at the wine stall together with what seems to be one of his pirate miscreants.

"Commodore." Jack bows, giving him one of his annoyingly enchanting smiles. "So pleased to see you. And you will even be more pleased to see everything here is perfectly legal and in order. What do you say to tasting this most delicious wine? At my costs, of course." At the same time he already gestures his obviously overwhelmed partner to open a particular vessel of wine.

"I most certainly will not, mister Sparrow." is Norrington's sharp reply. A quick glance tells him he is the only man with authority around. Where on earth were his men when he needed them? "I must say I'm rather surprised to see you here again. Last time you were on this square your neck was in a noose. One could say this... business you're in now is equal to suicide."

Jack laughed, beckoning his partner to remain silent. "Well commodore Norrington, I myself must admit I'm quite surprised too... to see you're still at your position. A commodore letting a convicted dangerous pirate escape deliberately... wouldn't you call that purple sin? But then again, no one is entirely without sin, isn't it... Take miss Swann for example, deliberately taking advantage of your feelings of love for her in order to go rescue her real true love!"

Norrington is furious, but -while noticing a group of marines nearing- restricts himself to merely react sarcastic: "Then, Mister Sparrow, I must remind you of how you shamelessly spent a night on a deserted island in the company of this very same fine lady and of how you burnt multiple gallons of rum... Wouldn't you call that purple sin??"

For a moment Jack stares at the commodore blankly. "No," he then responds slow yet determined, "That I call a terrible waste."

Right before his marines arrive and before Norrington himself is able to do something Jack suddenly throws some coins to the other man and sneaks into the crowd. His words "Thank you for your splendid... wine, vendor!" is the last sign they get of him.