"Oh yes," he tells her with confidence. He sits down with a small bit of grace, his arms spread out as though to gingerly balance himself, and he grins, all teeth, after ordering and receiving his drinks: a large pint of some honey-colored liquid for himself, and a similar something-or-other for Alice. Whether she wanted it or not. Jack would drink it, if she didn't.

He slips a coin off to his waitress, then downs a third of his drink.

It's as putrid as he enjoys. Not rum, but it would do.

"Now, tell ol' Captain Jack about yourself, eh?"