[ What a show. It's been too long since he's been around very religious types, he's almost forgotten how clearly you can see the gears turn when the tales they've told themselves, about themselves, are challenged. To have Irving just lay it all out for him, the hypocrisy, the pointlessness of it all, and just admit it, is better than he thought he'd get.

He just knows this man won't sleep a wink tonight, and yet, he doesn't relent. Saying is different than doing, and Jack is a man of action. He maintains eye contact as he twists and scoots to sit even closer in front of him, hands splayed over his own knees and watching. The tension in his face, no, his entire body, at war with himself between desire and self-righteous, pious folly. He'd make a hefty wager that Irving can hear his heart pounding in his ears. Jack's seen it before - not in this context, admittedly, but in dozens of respectable Englishmen who swore they'd never negotiate with pirates.

It only encourages them, after all.

After a long moment looking him up and down, he bites his lip and inhales, long and smooth, an act of faux-hesitation, calculated to look less confident than he is. His voice drops, lower as befits their closer proximity. It's just a hair above a whisper when he settles, prodding just a bit gentler now. ]

Naming the temptation to the tempter...I would say that means the battle is lost, wouldn't you? [ There's a subtle quirk to his eyebrow. Questioning, or cocky? ] There's no reason not to surrender to it. No reason that matters here.