Step. Half step. Turn. Step. Step. Tilt.
Captain Jack Sparrow made his way clumsily up the spiral iron staircase of one Elizabeth Turner's latest residence. He grabbed the railing for support and hoisted himself out of the wine cellar turning his head round the corner to look both ways to be sure that his 'nephew' would not come bounding round the corner to talk or play or whatever it was boy's his age did nowadays. He tapped his chin and eased the heavy oak door shut behind him the smallest click sounding from it.
He hobbled into the kitchen in his drunken stupor and folded his hands on the table in front of Mrs. Turner who was currently chopping some sort of vegetable on her makeshift cutting board (a sanitized, sanded old plank from one of the ships of her armada). Jack smiled at her his golden teeth glimmering in the dim light.
"Shoot me."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes at his request and pulled one of her many pistols out from its hiding place within her shirt. She pointed the gun at him and shot him square between the eyes causing him to burst into a fit of laughter. His immortality never failed to amuse him it seemed.
"What possessed me to ever let you drink from the fountain of youth?"
The tipsy captain sobered slightly grinned and tapped his chest. "Because without my compass you'd never have found the fountain, leading to your death and no one to protect your precious ferryman's heart."
She sighed and looked up at him harshly. "That question was rhetorical."
He laughed once more as she shot him in the stomach.