It was something of the law, a sliver, maybe- that which James Norrington did that evening. Yes, indeed, bending a rule for a time to better it in the future can be the correct course. Lucky enough, the pair was sufficiently intelligent to discover such a fact. Captain Sparrow accompanied Mr. Norrington to his mansion, yes, followed him directly home, and sat beside him in his kitchen- all done not without a promise to put Port Royal behind him and return never more to its land when the day arrived of the ends of his men's lives.

They had walked without conversation. They had mainly kept to themselves. What much would two men of such differing calibers have to say one another? Or perhaps, what much would two men of such similar calibers have to speak over? They devoured minute cakes for a slight snack the moment they'd arrived, each starved through such events.

"I had never murdered any man before, James. Not a soul has been taken under my blade nor shot," he chewed nonchalantly at his piece. "And the first accusation of such a foul act embraces the lives of an entire crew."

James choked a bit at his tea.

"You are no murderer, Mister Sparrow." Jack ceased all actions and took James' eyes intently.

"When one accuses oneself it is most certainly a valid claim." --

Sparrow hadn't much of a mind in the past few days. He'd sauntered casually through the mansion, careful to avoid civilian eyes. He'd sit for hours on end in the parlor, keeping his focus upon a sole object and not adjusting his position. He wasn't much of a man at all, really.

And so, a particular evening he became rather curious as to the boundaries he might be capable of crossing.

Norrington sat snugly in a chair, warmth penetrating over his light skin through the fireplace. He mumbled lightly to himself and he indifferently adjusted his bifocals as he engaged himself tremendously within the confined pages of a particular novel. His uniform was unbuttoned; his coat sprawled across the arm of his seat; his wig tilted subtly upon his head.

A knock cascaded through the walls and he jolted with its noise. A voice claimed its creator.

"It's me." It was the Sparrow.

Norrington shuffled his jacket over his shoulders, clasping a few buttons together. He adjusted his wig rather quickly; he smoothed the blankets he had faintly ruffled. Perfection once more.

"You may enter."

Jack meaningfully closed the door behind him and turned to face the Admiral.

"In any way might it be possible for a man of my status to explore the beach so very near and enjoy the sea's peaceful company on this sole particular night?"

"Captain Sparrow, you are most certainly aware of all risks associated with such a request, however you take such time to bother me with their inquiries." Sparrow opened his mouth to speak and rather James' voice was the one to follow.

"Follow me."

And so he did. They retreated to a hidden stairwell, slender in size and far in height. They marched one after the other along the flights and finished finally in a retreat of James' own. The balcony wasn't too large in size, it was fairly perfect. The sea stretched for miles in its vision and the moon's light seemed to aim right for the deck.

"Collect yourself here, Sparrow. It's something I've learned over the years." He retreated back towards the stairwell yet turned just before taking its first step. "And take as long as you would like." --