Amelia found Fritz near the edge of the deck.
He had claimed a quiet corner where the outside flaps blocked much of the wind.
His equipment was laid out in neat and deliberate rows. With a cloth in hand, he worked through each piece with a steady focus.
She paused without announcing herself, feeling like it'd be awkward if she interrupted his concentration.
Fritz didn't rush. Every movement laced with intent, like he was grounding himself through routine rather than distraction.
Amelia noted it automatically, the way she always did with people who carried responsibility well.
"You keep busy," she said at last.
Fritz glanced up, then relaxed when he saw it was her.
"Just a habit," he replied. "Can't have something break on me in a life-or-death situation."
Amelia nodded.
She stepped closer, resting a hand against the railing as she watched him finish securing a strap.
"So," she said lightly, "how are you feeling about all this?"
