"Hnnh. I'll take that as a no."

Nonplussed by the man's last action, Jones jerks the sword from his breast as if it were a thorn in his palm; there's not a wince of pain or an ounce of discomfort. He turns the (Turner made) blade over in his hand and considers it a moment.

"Nice sword," he comments to himself, and leaves the cooling corpse behind him. Swords, after all, are far more interesting then dead admirals.