Ain't be no flowers on this ship, lad. They's got no place to bloom.
( Perhaps he means this metaphorically. Or, more likely, this is the very literal and pained pronouncement of Mr. Eames, who has never encountered a lick of sarcasm he won't gently ruin through — please observe — wide-eyed, staggered misapprehension.
Least the lad's got enough of his wits left to give thought to what matters: where they be going. And so, with a candid wave of his hand, as Mr. Eames signals the spread of the ship and the waiting horizon: )
Where the good cap'n heads us. ( More sheepishly thereafter: ) ...and where Quicksilver Sam takes'im. We's playing escort now. Keeping the sea's pace, just here so the Pariah don't be venturing alone. 'course... you ask me, and ye be asking, yeah? Ain't me running me mouth, you're asking. Don't think... we should be wasting our time with all these hearties, if Quicksilver's a little... soft in the... ( His hand shifts to his temple, as if to point the finer, absent workings of his mind's insides. )
But ain't me who decides, and the Rope wants it done. Cause them, they go back. Would pirates do that, eh? Be so gentlemanly? You tell me.
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( Perhaps he means this metaphorically. Or, more likely, this is the very literal and pained pronouncement of Mr. Eames, who has never encountered a lick of sarcasm he won't gently ruin through — please observe — wide-eyed, staggered misapprehension.
Least the lad's got enough of his wits left to give thought to what matters: where they be going. And so, with a candid wave of his hand, as Mr. Eames signals the spread of the ship and the waiting horizon: )
Where the good cap'n heads us. ( More sheepishly thereafter: ) ...and where Quicksilver Sam takes'im. We's playing escort now. Keeping the sea's pace, just here so the Pariah don't be venturing alone. 'course... you ask me, and ye be asking, yeah? Ain't me running me mouth, you're asking. Don't think... we should be wasting our time with all these hearties, if Quicksilver's a little... soft in the... ( His hand shifts to his temple, as if to point the finer, absent workings of his mind's insides. )
But ain't me who decides, and the Rope wants it done. Cause them, they go back. Would pirates do that, eh? Be so gentlemanly? You tell me.