Somehow Jack had managed to soothe Ann enough that she'd fallen asleep. He was slumped over the table in the galley now with a hot cup of... something. He was too worn out to care what at that point. Ann was safe, the island was behind them, and they were finally going back to New York City. And yet, things weren't as perfect as they could have been.
The great king of Skull island was bound and unconscious beneath his feet. Oddly enough, where he'd been kept as well.
"We were both dragged into this by Denham, weren't we?" Jack mused aloud. "Neither of us wanted to be on this stinking, miserable ship. But here we both are. They caged each of us, like animals not to be trusted. Like beasts out of their element."
He took a long drink. It was awful, but it was warm and taking away his soreness little by little. He scowled, as his train of thought had stoked his hatred for Denham a bit. "We're both here for Carl's benefit - so he can finally make something of himself."
He finished the beverage. "But I think you've replaced me now. You're all he talks, thinks, or dreams about." He lifted the empty mug, as though offering a toast of sympathy to the beast not even present. "New York City will be your Hell, my friend." He was quiet for a bit, thinking more. At last, he found a few more words to be said to his non-existent audience before he looked for somewhere to sleep.
"And we've both had our hearts stolen by an angel."