Not a prat? Jack pulled himself up enough to peer over the top of the bar and blink at Kennedy. He'd had a friend like that, once: Christophe. He'd trailed along behind the older pirate much the same way he saw Kennedy trailing along with Hornblower. And that? Had ended in betrayal and dueling and ruin.

Jack Sparrow had never had a close male friend in the same manner ever since. Gibbs, of course, was possibly the man he trusted most. And he misplaced plenty of trust in women along the way, but that wasn't the same thing.

"Right. Not a prat. Whatever you say, Kennedy."