Testing the Waters ~ Masterfrost and Corvus 1x1

The seaman could not help the faintest of smiles at the laugh. It had been a while since he had heard such pleasant sounds. Alfred schooled his expression, though, keeping it neutral. Now was far from the time for this... "I am fine, as far as tea," he assured, glancing down at the Frenchman. "Some whist, though... would be a pleasant alternative." He could not keep staring at the wall like this, and he knew it.

Alfred watched with lightly lidded eyes as Jean scurried off and grabbed the worn deck of cards. He held in a smile at the excitement he could feel thrumming slightly in the air. This man was social, and it was painfully obvious that living in a place such as this did not lend it's current occupant to many social encounters. "I do hope you will at least attempt to be a challenge," the captain rumbled, cutting the deck neatly.

As expected, Alfred did not hold back. If he was doomed to be here with this criminal, he might as well beat him at whist as much as possible! It was at least better than sitting in awkward silence. Soon, though, the waning light from the world outside this little wreck was noted, and with a small huff, the Brit let the lamp be lit with little complaint, only partially focusing on the words. Sleep. Can take the bed. Not much oil, so don't keep the game too long. This, he could do, with a mistake like that.
"Don't fear...I believe you've just handed me my last victory for the night," the captain clicked, face still passive, but a slight gleam still in his eyes. "I doubt you'll be able to recover anything to take me down before I've completed the next couple hands needed to cement it."

The navel man waited quietly until Jean had left the room before even attempting to stand, again. He busied himself until then with the cards, returning them into a single stack and giving them a brief shuffling. Soon, though, it was simply Alfred and the small lamp, and he rose, carefully, to his feet. With enough of a mind to at least carry the lamp with him to assure nothing was in his path that would interfere with his less mobile leg, he came over to the bed and sat himself down upon it. It would have to do... Reclining and blowing out the lamp, he, too, fell asleep.

The moon had not yet reached its peek by the time noises began to tumble down into the hold. Groan and restless shifting of wood made up the most of it.

It felt like his leg was catching fire. it was not yet enough pain to fully wake the captain from his slumber,but it was enough to make it far more fitful. Alfred tossed and turned, throwing himself from one position to the next in an almost violent frenzy that managed to move the cot along with him, to an extent. His face was reddening along with the flesh of his injured leg.

The captain twisted and fought against the currently unknown force now holding him. All he really knew at the moment was that he did not want to be held down and that someone was doing just that. Thankfully, that response and the gentle shake was enough to bring his full mind back around. it took his mind a moment to register the face above in the dark of this unfamiliar space, but Alfred soon regained his wits and his memories of the activities of that day before. "Bloody Frenchman...." he grunted, trying to bat his hands away."What..?"

This was, indeed, odd. He may not claim to know Jean D'armistead personally, nor ever wished to, but Alfred certainly knew that any time he had interacted with this man, he had not been like this. What he was calling for, though, seemed to make sense. There was a certain exhaustion that was clinging doggedly, even after what felt like enough time to awaken more fully. Surely, he must have had some sort of fit to have brought the other back into the room and to feel such weariness. The captain let out a resigned huff, taking the bark and chewing on it when it was given. There was a slight ache in his head, anyways.

Alfred let his jaw work, swallowing every once and a while to get what was needed from the bark. Time passed and the bark had long turned into a fiber-y mush wadded up within his cheek. Jean had barely moved enough to confirm he was still breathing.
"Somewhat better," he grunted, depositing the used bark into his hand and glancing about for somewhere to put it. "There is a dull ache, but it is fading..."

The used bark was tossed out the window as told, and Alfred settled himself down into the cot, again, eyeing Jean. Sure, he didn't feel... anywhere near completely fit, but this was still odd. "Do you plan to sleep sitting up?" he muttered, shifting to find a more comfortable position. The temperature just did not feel right.