I won't kill ya or anything. [part 2]

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James freezes as Sage walks into the room, in awe of the power the man emanates with every step.

"Greetings, Serrio. I brought you something," the captain mumbles out into the room, closing the door and placing his sword and a concealed container onto his desk. The prince doesn't reply, just stays still in his position on the floor. "Not much of a talker, ey?" Sage continues, walking over to his closet to hang up his long coat, the same he wore yesterday, still spattered with blood. He eventually sits down at the front of his bed, leaning on his elbows that are placed against his lower thighs. "Too bad for me. Thought I could talk to somebody and not have it be about work." James doesn't know how to reply to that even if he wanted to. The captain crooks his head behind him in order to look at the prince, which is when he finally notices the mattress and sheets gone from the floor. "Oh, were you planning to go back to the compartment? You can if you want," the captain says, facing forward again, leaning down to take off his boots. Did he sound disappointed? "It's up to you," he continues, pulling off his left boot and throwing it in the general direction of his closet. The prince finally speaks up.

"I just thought that—" he says, stopping his thought halfway through. He must be the worst-speaking prince in history.

"Like I said, up to you," the captain replies, yanking off his other boot and tossing it away. "The choice is yours," he pauses. The prince stands up to go, truthfully unsure of what to do, but thinking it would be better to leave than to stay. He can't quite figure out why, though. "Ay, on your way out, do you mind lighting that candle?" James nods, walking over to the desk. He looks for the matches on the desk to no prevail, thus turning back to look at the captain. "Up on the second shelf," the captain answers, reading the prince's mind and pointing up to the tin of matches. The prince reaches up with his left hand, towards the canister, but when he grips it, he grabs a little too hard, flinching his hand back immediately due to the unhealing wound on his hand, from the other ship.

"What happened?" Sage asks in the caring tone he talked in yesterday.

"Ah, nothing, nothing. I just hit a soft spot," James replies, putting his left palm into his pocket and reaching up for the matches with his right.

"Let me see," the captain says, stepping closer to the prince.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see," he repeats, now barely a foot away. The prince turns to look up at him, the man towering a good half foot taller. Reluctantly, he pulls his hand out of his pocket and slowly raises it. The captain lightly grabs it with his own right hand, and turns it over so the prince's palm, and therefore cut, is now visible. The few seconds of Sage staring feel like an eternity. "This isn't nothing," he says, looking up from the cut and into James' eyes. The prince starts to blush. "Stay here," the captain continues, letting go of the prince's hand and walking towards the cabinet. In an instant, he has a bottle of unmarked liquor in his hand and is walking back to the prince. "Here, sit on the bed," Sage says, pointing to the spot the captain was sitting a few moments ago. The prince hesitantly steps over, slumping down. "How did this even happen?" the captain asks, reaching for the prince's hand, which he gives.

"On the other ship, I scraped it on the floor. It must have been dirty or something."

"Yeah, pretty sure it was dirty," the captain replies with a caring dose of sarcasm, uncorking the bottle with his teeth and spitting the cork to the side. "Sorry, this is gonna sting," he says, tilting over the bottle that he holds in his left hand. He pours it onto the prince's left hand that he holds still with his right. The sting of the clean surging through James' body feels piercing to the prince, causing him to bite his lip. His fingers try to wiggle free, but the captain keeps them still with ease. James' hand feels so small in the other man's. He feels so small next to him.

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