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“Yeah, we can print everything you take,” she replies, somewhat muffled this time. “Maybe someone has glossy paper too or something, it’ll look all official.”
"It was crazy, not nice to look at," he argues, softly, gently patting her shoulder. "Maybe if I catch a big fish sometime."
He's got his priorities straight. Jesus, he's glad she took the first step.
He pats her shoulder again, then notches his chin at her cabin.
"C'mon. Three's a crowd, don't want someone like BJ seein' us and getting the wrong idea."
He might make up a song. No way he's going to let that happen.
“Yeah, I think I’d lose my shit if that happened,” she says, moving into the cabin. “We‘d never hear the end of it.”
He gives her a little slap between the shoulder blades, following her inside.
"That man has too much energy by far."
"Less to prove to everyone," he guesses. "You got some coffee?"
“Uh, somewhere around here,” she replies, and she goes to the wardrobe to root around amongst the canned goods. “It’s instant, though, that alright?”
"Sure, I don't mind instant."
He sits down at her table and puts his journal down, relaxing a little. They have to talk about it, but he's enjoying settling into a dynamic first.
She finds the tin and sets it on the counter while she fills the kettle and gets the hot-plate going. She spoons a heaping teaspoon of little coffee granules into a stained mug. All easy to do one-handed, fortunately.
“I miss anything fun these past few days?”
"Oh, yeah. The invisibility thing's going great on a ship full of petty assholes and people with an under-developed sense of humor."
He puts his hat on the table too and tries to relax.
She pours hot water into the mug, watching as it turns dark brown.
"Anyone gone after you yet?"
"Oh, yeah. William had a go at me. Where that man's grudge comes from I don't know, but it's annoying as hell."
"No promises that would settle me down," he warns. "He seems to think it was my fault he shot me that one time, and now he's allowed to always be pissed at me."
"It doesn't always make sense," she replies. She mulls over telling Arthur that William assumed he'd broken her arm, but maybe that's an unhelpful sort of honesty. "I don't know. You're a warden. Just be the bigger man, the rest of it is his problem."
"I try to be. I ain't the one who smacked him in the head, on account of not being invisible."
He probably wouldn't have done it anyway. Probably.
"That guy loves everything he can torment me with," he grouses, reaching for his coffee.
"Thanks for this. How's the arm?"
"Good. Great."
He takes a sip of his coffee, debating the right words. It takes a while, but eventually he says:
"Thank you. For the photograph."
"You're welcome. I figured you'd like it, you being sentimental and all," she replies.
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