John almost regrets the question — the answer is certainly none of his business, and the look Jack gives him suggests that he's weighing the relative wisdom of sharing his dilemma with someone who looks as if they've stumbled face-first into every bad outcome life presented to them. But after that assessing pause, Jack begins to explain himself.

John grunts in sympathy at modern social rules. Tricky enough to navigate when you have modernity on your side, let alone when you've been thrown a few centuries off your usual mark. Martin would indeed be a better source on the matter, John thinks, but Jack keeps going at a clip, pulling an embroidered handkerchief out of his pocket. John blinks down at it in surprise — Christ, can most pirates do that sort of thing? — and then his gaze flicks back up to Jack as he lands on a concrete question. A question which is immediately followed by such a blunt assessment of Eliot's proclivities that John has to smother a startled cough.

"Wh—I, er," he starts, glancing between Jack and the embroidery as he struggles to pick one point of initial focus, "I supp—Jesus, that's really quite good." The embroidery ends up winning out, and John leans in to take a closer look. "You've done all this in under a week?"