Jack returns Eliot's smile cautiously, aware of the pause and moment of indecision that his question caused. It was a straightforward enough question, but perhaps too invasive for Eliot's liking. Maybe, given how he talked about his parents, it's something connected to deeper things than bone structure.

When Eliot moves on, Jack allows the shift, but wonders idly how much worse Eliot's parents really were. Whatever they were, he at least knows that they were wrong on this particular count. Humility is an overrated virtue, and it never did him any good.

"Very few pirates start out that way," he says, coming around near Eliot to join him in looking over the denim. "My father was a tailor." He pulls a pair of jeans out enough to read the tag and decipher the sizing, but his focus is more on what he's saying. "When he died he had debts that fell to me, and my options for remittance were limited, to say the least. So I left. But if circumstances had been different, it's entirely possible that I would be stitching together shirts right now instead of standing here trying to decipher fashion two hundred years past my time."