FUEGO
Here you go! Fuego is very impressed! You funny, and how you even know about this place is not in my knowledge, but I see what you want-drink, drink! I buy you one, enh? You look like pirate. You want bottle of rum? Come, come. I give you the best service. I been coming here my entire life, practically!
CUT TO:INT: BAR
Jack allows himself to be beckoned inside, still limply holding his own bottle of rum loosely. Wide-eyed at the sign, he begins to reconsider the fact that no one on this island has heard of him.
What is inside the small, shack-like building is a sight to behold. Dingy and dirty, the place is almost literally about to burst with the amount of drunken men inside. There are tables and chairs set up, but they are so oddly mismatched it looks as if each person is to bring their own. About every table has some sort of card game going on, but they are far from professionals. Cheating, shouting, shooting, and the occasional hurled bottle accompany the games. But the mayhem has a sort of organized chaos. There are no dead bodies on the floor, and every so often a winner will happily declare he's buying his whole table drinks, followed by rousing cheers.
There seems to be no restrictions on, age, height, nationality, weight-but again, there are no women in sight.
As Jack squints past a thin film of smoke, following Fuego, who is greeting various characters in loud Spanish, he sees crudely made signs hanging on the wall. They scream out behavioral boundaries in broken English. "Tu nessacitas parlanes Ingles to drink," says one. Another reads "No se permite violence." And so on and so forth, in French, Spanish, Italian; there seems to be no common thread other than all are very clear on the fact that English and not killing fellow customers is rather important.
Fuego reaches a table of card players that he seems to like, and ungracefully lowers himself into a chair with a large creak. He beckons Jack to come closer and claps him on the back, as if they were old friends instead of awkward acquaintances.
FUEGO
This here be my new amigo!I promise him bottle of rum, right?
JACK
(Vaguely)
Riiight.
FUEGO
(Bellowing)
KIIIIIIT!! Come to Fuego!
Jack, completely not expecting that, nearly falls down with shock at the monstrous shout in his ear. He just barely regains his balance, parinoidly looking about.
A six or so year old boy comes skittering up to Fuego, completely out of breath. He is small but taken care of, though his bad haircut and lack of shoes suggest a modest familial income. He has an undeterminable but apparent accent.
KIT
Si, Senor?
FUEGO
Good child. I need a bottle of rum here for my friend, Jack Sparrow. (He gestures to Jack)
JACK
(Out of habit)
Cap'n. Jack Sparrow. Jus' so you know, mate.
Kit's eyes widen innocently and his mouth gets very small.
FUEGO
And take him to be introduced to your mother for me, will yeh?
Having been dealt a hand of cards, Fuego is preoccupied and no longer interested or even paying attention, so Jack and the little boy are left staring at each other.
Kit worriedly begins to tug on Fuego's shirtsleeve, though not breaking eye contact with Jack.
KIT
(Whispering)
I no think so, Senor.
FUEGO
(Looking up at him)
Why not?
KIT
Because every night before I go to bed, my mother say to me; (He puts on a falsetto and begins to recite irritably) "Buenos noches, y never become a man as horrible as Captain Jack Sparrow or I never speak ye again!"
FUEGO
(Deadpan)
Well really…I believe it is time for you to be reunited with the bonny lass…(He begins to chuckle deeply again, but there is a sliver of distrust in his eye) Because as far as I knows…Kit never lies…Gets it from his mother, I suppose.
Jack opens and closes his mouth several times, but sound refuses to come out.
Kit turns his head and points his grubby finger in the same direction.
KIT
There she be, Senor. You can go talk to her now. But I no take you anywhere. You 'member dat later.