Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, or any related logs and Perifanalia….yet….

Tortuga. Every pirate dreamed of that lascivious port during long stretches at sea. The port always had beds with willing companions and more alcohol than water. Well, at least that's what it seemed like. There really were no poor people on the island-it was a den of thieves. If you were down on your luck, you could just pickpocket one of numerous drunks laying about the streets, too wasted to do more than lift up their hands to try and wave you away. A man was only lonely if he wanted to be in the town full of women who'd given up their dignity to survive. Not that all strumpets hated their profession-some were quite good at what they did and found it an immense pleasure to please men. Of course, those were the ones you could only afford after ransacking a particularly wealthy merchant ship. They were also the ones in the very expensive silk dresses with rooms of their own at one of the houses of ill repute.

Burned food, and sweat hit the nostril. Once the sailor got used to it, however, the smell was quite intoxicating. Something to look forward to when the ship seemed to crawl towards the port, steering into the harbor while avoiding the sharp rocks nearby. The wait is often the hardest part of a journey.

A figure slowly stepped onto the docks of Tortuga, a slightly glazed look in his eyes with a brown overcoat. On his head was a red bandana. That wasn't considered odd by other pirates at the time. A bandana is a good way to keep hair out of your face. What was considered odd, however, was the kohl lining his liquid brown eyes and dreadlocks with all manner of curious trinkets tied in them. No other pirate had their hair that way. Well, one rather crazy pirate by the name of Morgan decided that keeping scalps on their clothes would be a good niche, but that isn't exactly related to hair. The man took a wobbly step forward, resembling either a drunken man or a child taking its first steps. After he made his way towards the town, it seemed more like he was drunk than anything. Oddly enough, he hadn't had a sip of alcohol in over three days. There had to be some reason for the man's curious strides, but he seemed amused whenever anyone asked him about it and refused to answer by changing the subject. Who is the man, you might be asking? Well, I'm fairly sure that you've figured out that the man now approaching a dirty looking tavern was none other than Captain Jack Sparrow.
He glanced around for a moment, his dark eyes scanning the crowd as though it were the most interesting thing in the world. Actually, it probably was.

There happened to be two rather large men battling each other for the privilege of one of the more expensive harlots. She was a fine prize, her blue eyes turned towards the two men with a flattered (and forced) look on her face, twisting her symmetrical lips into a smirk. Her blue eyes, on the surface at least, appeared to be avidly watching each blow, yet Jack could tell she wasn't really looking at what she was going on.

Her blue eyes were staring through the men, trying to find some sort of purpose in life other than being someone's prize. He could hear what she was thinking.
Blinking as someone bumped into him, Jack frowned slightly. He wanted to help the woman, but didn't know how. He'd never be able to fight off two men at once. So, he turned his head and stepped inside the tavern, hoping that there wouldn't be any women inside.

Truth is, he'd run into something quite annoying during his last trip-A small golden figurine of some goddess. He'd been examining said goddess during a rainstorm on the way back to the Caribbean (for they'd been across the Atlantic) when a bolt of lightning happened to strike very near to him.

When he'd woken up a week later in his cabin with Anamaria peering down at him curiously, he'd discovered that he could hear what she was thinking. It had been a major shock when he'd first heard her thinking-she was speaking, yet her lips weren't moving. After getting slapped numerous times for guessing what Anamaria was thinking accurately, Jack finally decided not to try and use his new found gift on her. It was best not for him to try and understand women, of course. He wanted to use this blessing (though he'd thought of it as a curse at first) to his advantage, and the bawdy pirate town was the best place to do so.
He quickly ordered a drink from a rather hairy bartender that had a mole the size of a dubloon on his left cheek, taking the precious liquid to a small table as far away as other people as he could manage. He really didn't want the thoughts of women to invade his space right now. All he wanted to do was drink his tea in peace. That was a thought he didn't have often. Jack never ordered tea while in Tortuga. Obviously this whole ordeal had affected him more than he was willing to admit.

Jack looked around the tavern. Anyone who looked back at him clearly read his features. His face said "So what if I ordered tea in Tortuga? Don't you" but he knew they didn't.

It was going to be a long night.