In another ten years I'll have killed you more times than you'd like to count. Are ye prepared for that?

[At this, Jones grows cold and stressed, anxious and angry and flustered. When it's matters of ship and sail, he knows precisely where he stands. Love is another battlefield altogether.

He immediately leaps on the defensive; a definite departure from usual tactics]

She was not so degraded as to be a bit player in any man's book. You cannot - do not speak her name-! - she was...

She is not Sylvanas.