[At that, Bush lofts both eyebrows at him, somewhat bemused by this judgement of his fickleness. If ever mortal man was born to trudge and serve through unfair treatment and monotony interspersed with danger, Bush is of the breed.]

As you like, Jones. In another ten years I'll toast you to my fickleness, and then another ten after that.

And Calypso, just a sad chapter in your past, forgotten? You lie badly for a pirate.