Ocean Eyes, Storm Cloud Minds

Chapter Eighteen

Elric was soon urged out of his cabin by someone with dark skin and a shaved head telling him about a fight that had arisen between two members out on deck, albeit being reluctant due to his blatantly obvious lack of trust toward anyone on his vessel- especially towards someone who had yet to prove his loyalty to the crew. Not to mention how the brunet was soon going to be left in here, unsupervised and under some kind of alcoholic influence. Addressing the injured male in as direct and abrupt of a manner as possible, the captain's bitter tone was loud and crude as he ordered Lancelot 'not to do anything he'd regret' while he was left alone.

The black-haired male didn't even wait for a response before leaving, the door clicking as one of the many locks turned, preventing anyone from getting in (and Lancelot from getting out, provided he was really faking it) while the captain was gone, and heavy silence suddenly filled the otherwise empty cabin. Lancelot shivered softly as the warning sank in, his lips slightly parted as if he'd been expecting to get a chance to speak. All he'd intended to do was say he understood or insist that he wasn't as stupid as Elric seemed to think he was- or to do something, /anything/, so the captain wouldn't just assume that he was just quiet and awkward. Honestly, he hated that he was treated so lowly, but not now. He'd not speak up yet- that'd be something that he would regret, he was sure of it.

An exasperated sigh escaped his lips at the situation, but he couldn't even begin to let himself complain about it, no matter how strange it felt to be sitting where he was, or how much it made his nerves tingle with fear to make him think of the chances of ending up in the same room as a drunk or angry, or... a captain who was brash and impulsive for other reasons. His blood seemed suddenly hotter and Lancelot noticed how his skin tingled, but he realised that it seemed to be nothing but the alcohol finally kicking in and doing what Elric had told him it'd do- the pain in his leg had finally subsided enough to be just a dull throb- although it was likely just that his mind was focused more on the alcohol. Hell, even with the alcohol coursing through his veins, Lancelot couldn't find it anything but strange to think that he was in the captain's bed.

Butterflies were swarming in his stomach, already beginning to drive him crazy after a few moments and he was beginning to feel sick from the sensation, but he forced himself to ignore it and focus on what mattered. His palms were getting a little sweaty and his nerves tingled, but he couldn't quite tell whether it was out of fear, excitement, or because of whatever strength alcohol there had been in that flask. Hell, Lancelot wasn't the kind of person to have held or smelt such a strong amount of alcohol with the intention of drinking it, but with how things have been going for him, he shouldn't be surprised anymore.

Slowly, and with more caution than necessary, the Cuban brunet shifted his weight down the bed, his wound beginning to disagree with the disturbance, before he set himself down once more, a soft noise escaping his lips as he calmed his wound down, stopping the pain from hurting him so badly. He relaxed once more, having given himself enough room to lie down, hoping to get back even a little of the sleep that he'd forced himself to miss out on while working at the docks or refusing nightmares. Another sigh glided past his gently parted lips while his blue eyes surveyed the cabin he was restricted to staying in until he'd healed properly.

His gaze wandered over the ornaments and objects in view, before he looked briefly over the desk. He noticed the map, with a few extra details scribbled on, and the silver compass lying on top (although he didn't look long enough to see the imprint on the compass' cover), weighing it down a little. He then took a moment to admire the clothes, expensive and fanciful- likely worth more than he could guess- were hanging on the wall close by the desk. Finally, his ocean blue eyes landed on the faded, slightly scuffed and scratched black paint on the wall. Lancelot couldn't see the pictures well enough from where he was sat to recognise whoever it was on there, but from all the notes and the piles of s**t around the paint, he was sure that this man was of importance to Elric.

This one wall seemed older than the ship itself, what with the faded paint and chipped wood, and Lancelot just knew that he recognised the strange shape from somewhere. It was like a stretched out 'V', with two half-arrows along either side, and it was painted in black on the faded wood. He spent a few moments wandering to himself about where exactly he had seen that before- before his eyes widened with remembrance and recognition. He reached down, into his pocket, and fished out the small red jewel that he'd stolen yesterday.After a moment, he held it up alongside the black paint and checked the darkened mark on the jewel, his eyes widening a little more as he noticed that the shapes were more than just similar- they were the same shape, to the same scale, just done on two different things.

The brunet spent a few long moments studying his new discovery like it was the most impressive thing he'd ever figured out- before he heard the sound of a key entering the door and a lock click. His breath caught in his throat and fear gripped him before he quickly and worriedly shoved the gem back into his pocket, lying down again properly and watching as Elric pushed the door open and walked inside- angry.