Captain Jack Harkness leaned forward onto the dirty, scarred table of a Tortuga tavern, stared meditatively into his cup of deep amber whiskey, and said, to his drinking companion, "So... I gotta ask. Why the dreads?"

Captain Jack Sparrow, equally enthralled by his alcohol, shrugged. "Easy to keep clean, mate."

Harkness eyed the dreadlocks in question. "Uh. Well, for a given value of 'clean,' I guess."

Sparrow snorted. "Clean isn't me first worry, nancy boy."

"Oooh, harsh words for your whiskey supplier," Harkness said, and poured Sparrow another drop or two. He sat back then and eyed Sparrow critically. "Seriously, though, you could be really good-looking."

Sparrow flipped a hand dismissively and slightly drunkenly. "Don't need any help with the ladies."

"So the girls slapping you were…"

"Running joke. Bad one."

Harkness choked, and clapped a hand over his nose. "Ow! Dammit, Sparrow! Whiskey in the sinuses hurts."

"Well, it's true." Sparrow flipped a hand again, then said, "All right, come clean. Why d'you want me ship?"

Harkness made a face— caught— and replaced it with a cocky grin. "I've lost my own shipmates somewhere. Last I heard they were looking for the Isla de Muerta. Seems the Doc's got an appointment he can't miss there. I was hoping you could give me a ride."

Sparrow frowned, and lifted his chin, looking down his nose at Harkness. "Bit of a problem, mate. No one can find the Isla de Muerta except by those who already know where it is."

Harkness grinned. "Fortunate that I know where it is, then, isn't it? Here." He took a piece of paper from his pocket and spread it out on the table. "Here's Port Royal, and here's us, and the Isla de Muerta…" He stopped, as a shadow fell over the table.

"There you are!" the Doctor said, irritably. "We've been looking for you nearly an hour. What happened, you get distracted by the whores?"

Harkness looked past the Doctor to Rose, currently trying to blend into the Time Lord's leather jacket, and gave her a reassuring and slightly flirtatious grin. "Hey, darling, hope I didn't cause you too much worry."

The Doctor snorted. Rose gave him a shy smile. Sparrow straightened.

"No," Harkness and the Doctor said in unison. Sparrow slumped.

"Come on, Captain," the Doctor added, laying a slight sarcastic emphasis on 'Captain' in that dead sexy way of his. "We're off."

"Anything you say, Doc." Harkness got up and winked at Sparrow. "Sorry about that. Maybe some other time."

Sparrow, who had taken advantage of Harkness's distraction to spirit the whiskey bottle under the table, lifts his glass. "Til then," he said, and as Harkness and company walked off, smiled at the map he had also spirited under the table. "And thanks, mate," he murmured, running a hand over the painted Isla de Muerta. "Much appreciated."