Tighten the hempen halter

JACK

This time, at least, Locke will have a chance to look properly around the deck, fore and aft, the sails, the ropes, the crow's nest far above. They scoot by the captain's cabin but of course they don't go inside, and Jack continues down into the belly of the ship: cannons, stores and stock, bunks and, of course, the kitchen. He might have snorted a laugh to hear Locke's internal commentary about being old, but of course the other man doesn't know he's privy to it. So instead, as they head back up to the deck, he offers a brisk nod. Doesn't really matter to him whether or not Locke is getting his dick wet.

"We'll be back around mid season," he says. "Plenty of time to get away an' plenty of time to get fucked up all over again, if that's your thing." Smirking, he leads them back towards the gangplank. "Any questions? If not I'll see you the morning we sail. If you need any ingredients or whatever, best put in word for 'em now. When we're out, we're out."

you are a quiet god
and your hunger is cavernous