Marcus leaned his weight against the railing beside the helm, rocking slightly with the ship's motion. He glanced at Noel, then at Elyra, before turning his attention back to the man at the wheel.
"So, Gustave," he said, tone casual but curious, "you've been sailing these waters longer than any of us have been alive, right?"
Gustave didn't look away from the sea. "Long enough to forget what solid ground feels like some days."
Marcus grinned. "Perfect. Then you've got stories."
That finally earned a reaction. The captain's mouth twitched—not quite a smile yet, but close.
"Stories," Gustave repeated. "That's what people call warnings when they survive them."
Noel rested his forearms on the railing, relaxed but attentive. "We're listening either way."
Gustave glanced at him sidelong, measuring. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him. He adjusted his grip on the wheel, then exhaled slowly.
