It's been far too long without one. [ It seems strange not to be constantly drinking, be it grog or something else. He's far from an alcoholic, but Nassau is Nassau, and the fact that he hasn't had a proper glass of anything since arriving strikes him as terribly inconvenient to his general demeanour. He motions with a cant of his head: after you, sir, and glances at the other's bracelet to see its colour. His own glows orange, and after a few beats he decides he might as well ask something that's been bothering him for a while. ]

The vast majority of those amidst our ranks seem to have a particularly strange way of rattling on. A far cry from the intonation I've grown used to hearing. Where are you from?

[ It's bothering him more than he cares to admit: Jack is a man of rhetoric, and American accents? Whack. He plays it cool, though, beady eyes focused ahead of him, the promise of rum and a proper conversation lifting his mood entirely. ]