[ he wakes to the sounds of his father's voice calling the crew to deck sometimes after he dreams of waking in the crow's nest, feeling the way the ship rocks and turns as it floats lazily toward their destination. the very fond, booming: quentin, get your lazy ass up and point us in the right direction. but he wakes to a canopy over his bed, strange wallpaper, stranger surroundings. landlocked.

quentin sighs a little, squeezes koby's hand back and turns to nose against his forehead, humming a little. ]

Mm, maybe. He taught me to love it, so it was inevitable, really.

[ there's a laugh there and he shakes his head, shifting to allow koby closer still, reveling in the comfort and the warmth of someone beside him. he'd woken on those dreams today - sun at his back, waves beneath his feet, and his father shouting something he couldn't hear over the rush of it all.

and just like that, it passes, he feels the ache in his heart and the pull in his gut of yearning and longing, and he tries his best to shut the doors. quentin can't live long in the past - it's better he doesn't get so distracted. (it's better he doesn't get hurt). ]

You didn't eat much - do I need to bring breakfast to you next, or is this going to be an uphill battle to make you enjoy more than just the sticky jam from my fingers? Not that I minded that part at all.