Testing the Waters ~ Masterfrost and Corvus 1x1

It was just the sound of the waves lapping against the walls and his own breathing, just as usual. Jean, sitting in the gutted captain's quarters, which he had fitted for his own use, tapped his fingers against the seasoned wood of a deal table that had survived the half-sinking of the ship. A walk would do me good... The chest containing a good supply of his most frequently used supplies sat against the far wall, drawn there by its weight on the gradual incline. He flipped open the lid and took out a torch, along with his flint.
Agile, he shimmied down the rope out the window, the way he usually got in and out of the ship, and waded to the shore. Picking his way along the shore, he came to the terrestrial mouth of the cave, which was very, very dark. Lighting the torch, he carried on into the cave.
Jean stopped short, hearing a shout and the sound of falling rubble, followed by a flinch-worthy 'thump' and shattering glass.
Who could that be? Curiosity overcoming his common sense, he sought for the source. Relying on his hearing rather than the light of the torch, it took a short time to find it.
"Why, if it isn't the captain!" The remark was more to himself than to the injured man. His first impulse was to help- he wasn't in good shape, bleeding in several places, and clearly having difficulty moving on his own. Of course, his better sense made him keep a distance, at least for the time being. From his former run-ins with this particular officer, he knew that he was not exactly well liked. Then again, he was a man of honor, from what he had heard, and probably wouldn't resort to tricks to catch a mere thief.

"What are you doing down here?" He asked, picking up on the increasingly irregular pace of his breathing. To hell with it... Pasting his usual Cheshire cat smile on over the worry, he approached slowly. "Well... I suppose it'll be easier to respond when you're not bleeding. Stay still." He nimbly climbed up the short way to the place where Alfred had come to rest. He he took the corner of his sleeve in his teeth and tore off a strip. "I might regret this, but I'd rather you not die here, so..." He trailed off, attempting to stem the most profuse bleeding by pressing the cloth into the wound. Once that was done, he'd see if he couldn't get the injured man back to a place where he could actually see what he was doing.

"I should think not." Jean, satisfied that the bleeding was at least slowed, bound the injury up quickly with another strip of his shirt. Well that's not good... The swelling of his ankle was quite apparent, and it was beginning to turn colors. "Right. Can you move? Up you go." The Frenchman held out his arm to help brace the injured party. It seemed he had hit his head, and he hated to have to move him, but there was no way anything more could be done with the waning light of the torch. "Come now, we'll go out to the cove." His tone would have been more appropriate for an actual afternoon stroll, rather than the current situation.

Jean tried not to wince. It hurt to watch.
"Of course, dear Captain," He spoke with mock dignity, letting him set the pace. "It isn't far, if that's any encouragement." He's so cool... Maybe it's just because he's hurt, but this is a nice temperature.
Even at their slow pace, it wasn't long before they got to the well-lit cavern that housed the wreck.
"Wait here, I'll be right back." Jean, though he was reluctant to let go (for what reason he couldn't say), sat Alfred down on the sand by the smooth-worn wall. With a final glance back, he took off to his supply room (via a quick dive into one of the air-filled inner rooms) and returned within a few minutes.

"Okay... Let me see." Jean, dripping with seawater, brought forth a waterproofed rucksack. Nimble-fingered, he had the boot off in a moment, and was immediately setting to work on a splint to keep it from becoming even more agitated. Clearly, he had dealt with crises like this before.
"So," After a drawn out moment of quiet, Jean spoke, continuing in his task. "You didn't ever answer my question. How did you come to be in such a predicament?" He had let the matter rest long enough, but now that the immediate stress of the situation had dissipated, his curiosity returned full force. If you won't tell me, I'll have to trick you into it. He was expecting a full-on rejection, or even silence.

Well, that's not much of a surprise. Jean merely continued smiling, finishing off a simple splint to keep the joint immobilized.
"Ah, you Englishmen, always so cold. No wonder your women are so enamored with the French..." He made deliberate eye contact with the captain as he made this remark.
"I'm sure you'd rather have a chair than sit on the sand like this. What do you say we go to my parlor and get that leg up?" He waited for the response, though he intended to get him there whether he wanted to or not. There was no way he'd be making it back to town in his current state, and leaving him out on the beach was simply unthinkable.

"Oho, injured, but we still have our pride, I see." Jean snickered, seeing in his eyes that he had put his foot down. Stubborn. I should have expected this. He should be glad I don't wait until the tide comes in. He took a few steps off to the side, calculating how best to move the man into the ship. Of course, he always had the option of knocking him out again, which would make moving him significantly easier, but there was a great possibility that he would worsen any injuries already there. I suppose I shall have to be creative with this.
Making a sudden movement, he got behind Alfred, pushing him away from the wall sharply. If he had judged his weights and angles correctly, it should be enough to force him to his feet. Then, if he was lucky, it would be a matter of momentum to get him to the ship. Getting him inside, of course, would be a different matter, but he'd cross that bridge when he got there. So long as it was all solved before the tide came in, it didn't matter much how it happened.

"Now, that's more like it." Jean muttered in French, glad to be nimble. Darting forward, he caught Alfred on his shoulders, practically dragging him towards the wreck. If you were a normal person, I'd say you'd thank me later, but knowing you... Well, I'll settle for a grunt and a glare. He tried to take his mind off of how heavy Alfred was. Of course, he knew that much, as he was quite a bit taller and had a broader build.
"Give me a moment, Captain." He smiled as he realized the state of matters. The captain was now quite a ways into the shallow water, far enough that wading back to shore with a bad leg would be very difficult, and the water was cold enough that it would be rather uncomfortable before too long. Of course, he expected that Alfred would hold out for quite a bit, being such a stiff-upper-lip sort of gent, but not indefinitely. Clambering up the rope, he passed through the room and out onto the deck, where one of the small boats used for outings was still held aloft. Of course, it was at an odd angle now, but that could be accounted for. Lowering it without too much difficulty, he peered over the side of the ship to see what Alfred would do.

Under normal circumstances, he might have responded with a smug comment, but at this point, that was the last thing he wanted to do. Surprised at how soon Alfred got into the boat (but not at all surprised at his expression) Jean used his weight to hoist the boat up. It was normally a two-man job, but with the aid of one of the many water-logged barrels that were left on deck, he managed to pull it up far enough that the captain could get onto the deck.
"Welcome aboard," He seemed genuinely glad, still standing on the other side of the deck. That's a look that could kill if ever I saw one. He determined that a good distance between them would be best until the other party calmed down a bit.
"How about some tea? You can make it into the cabin yourself, yes?" He headed for the door himself, leaving it open, but keeping a worried eye out to make sure that he made it. Meanwhile, he got to work on starting up the small stove in the corner. He hadn't the slightest idea what sort of a person the captain of the ship had been, but he got the impression that he had been an odd one. With that passing thought on his mind, he tapped into his supply of fresh water and put it in a kettle to heat. All that was left to do was to figure out where he had left the tea.

((Hehehehehehe vesicle))
"Bought it." He replied, finding it wedged into the corner of his chest. The small space was soon filled with the smell of brewing tea. Of course, elaborating any more than that was just asking for things to get worse. "Have a seat, please." He gestured to a worn chair against the wall with a crate in front of it. The brocade fabric had probably been quite nice when the chair was new, but on account of use and exposure, it was faded and worn. Jean, judging that the tea had had enough time to steep, poured some out into a chipped mug and brought it to Alfred.

Jean, taking a seat on a second crate, folded his legs and watched. He wanted to start up a conversation to pry into the man's motives, but at the moment, nothing came to mind, so he remained quiet, merely observing Alfred's movements.
So, it was back to the lapping waves and breathing. After a long pause, he finally picked a venue of conversation.
"So, how have your sisters been? Well, I hope." He didn't recall whether or not Alfred knew that he was in acquaintance with his sisters, but it had been a while since he had had a chance to visit with either young lady.

"Yes, yes, I'd say. Perhaps a bit lonely as of late, but quite well indeed," He didn't bother suppressing the grin that came up when his sisters were mentioned.
It was too difficult to do, watching him try to control his expressions in that uniquely British way.
Jean reached over to the pot and refilled the mug before returning to his own seat and folding his legs again. He looked quite comfortable, although he was still wet from his brief dive.

"Hm?" Jean noticed that Alfred looked suddenly rather uncomfortable (or at least, moreso than he was already) , shifting his posture. Narrowing his eyes, he thought about it a moment. Aha. That's probably it.
"Something the matter, captain?" Of course, giving in that easily wasn't very entertaining, and while he was immune to the captain's wrath, he might as well keep things interesting. I'd be perfectly willing to help you if you'll tell me. Lying is pointless, and you'll only draw your own suffering out longer...

Jean had given up the question as lost after the long silence, but then was surprised to see the captain nod.
"Itching? All right. Sit still, if you would." Jean didn't sound the least bit smug, only a bit concerned. He actually admitted it. That was unexpected. He got down on his knees and undid the splint. Sure enough, there was plenty of sand. It would have been a bit itchy to begin with, but with sand in it, it would have been unbearable.
"Ah, this'll probably heal right up, Perdenkly, if that's any consolation." He said, getting a good look at the injury as he brushed the sand from it. "You'll be out of here before they know to look for you."