It’s eerily quiet. I don’t know if it’s thanks to the lack of proper lighting beyond my single lantern, but it feels like there’s someone tucked away in a dank corner, watching.
Heading out of the kitchen on bare feet with the lantern in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, I then stumble to a halt. There’s the oddest sound I can’t begin to place coming from nearby. It’s a steady and repetitive sch-sch-sch, followed by a pause, then sch-sch-sch. I follow the sound to the room next door where a faint glimmer of light is visible through a crack in the door.
I gently push open the door, popping my head in through the gap to investigate.
“Well hello there. Don’t be shy.”
I step inside and find Captain Finch surrounded by a pile of sawdust on one side and material on the other. His tentacles are working at a frantic pace, chiseling and sanding what looks like a chair leg.
“Evening, love,” he says. “Trouble sleeping?”
I nod, stepping fully inside. “How about you?” Eyeing the pile of objects he’s surrounded himself with, my brow creases. “Do you ever sleep?”
He scratches his chin, tossing his long hair back as he grins over at me. “I’m like a shark, love, I sleep while I’m walking along. It’s funny how often people don’t notice.”
Once again, I have no idea if he’s joking or not. It’s impossible to judge by his expression or anything else, and knowing Finch, I wouldn’t put it past him.
“Well, take a pew,” he says with an expansive wave of his hand. “You’re very welcome.”
I sip my tea and glance over at the steaming kettle that’s sitting in the embers of the fire. “Tea?”
He nods, his tentacles pausing in their work to give me a jaunty wave. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
There’s a teapot and some clean mugs, so I quickly set about making his tea. I then shift a pile of white material into my lap as I take a seat beside Finch while he continues to hack at the wood, whittling and then smoothing edges before carving out holes until he has something that looks like the chair I’m sitting in. Its surface is slightly smoothed so I sink right into it and it’s oddly comfortable.
“What exactly are you doing here?”
“Keeping busy,” he replies. “Thought we needed some fresh furniture that isn’t going to fall apart every time someone puts their weight on it.”
“You make me feel lazy,” I tell him.
Cap just shrugs unconcernedly, smoothing an edge with his hand. “Like I said, I’m a shark. I have to keep moving.”
That strikes me as different from what he said earlier. “You have to?”
He hesitates for a moment before giving the smallest of nods, as though it’s not something he admits easily. “I always had a lot of energy when I was younger, but it wasn’t quite like this.” He jerks his head towards the tentacles that are moving at a furious pace, sending sawdust flying in all directions. “This came later.”
After the labs, I’m guessing he means.
He leans forward, and his tentacles both stop their movement as he blows sawdust from the chair leg before slowly leaning back. His eyes remain locked on mine the entire time, and he’s got this fluid way of moving that’s oddly mesmerising. Once he’s sitting upright again, he crosses his legs, and I notice that he’s somehow lost another couple of buttons and his entire chest is now exposed. My cheeks flush as I clear my throat and lean back.
What is it about this man that makes me so flustered? He has this way of looking at me that’s both disarming and so intense I don’t know what to do with myself. Despite the constant movement of his body parts, he’s also got a watchfulness and a stillness to him. I just know that he doesn’t miss much.
His grey eyes rest on mine for a moment before running over my flushed cheeks before his tentacle reaches out to casually brush some sawdust from my shoulder.
“It’s worse being on land,” he says. “It’s been a long time since I was and it makes me itchy. Restless.” His eyes stay locked on mine as his tentacle shifts until it's forming small circles on my shoulder. “More restless than usual, I mean.”
“You’re always on the water?” I ask, fighting the urge to say something stupid, like asking how he would usually get rid of his restlessness. “You always stay on the ship, I mean?”
He nods. “Whenever I go a little stir-crazy, I just head for deep water and spend some time alone down there to decompress.” He gives a dangerous little half-smile at his wordplay before raising an eyebrow at his wayward tentacle,which is now moving over my shoulder and pressing into a particularly hard knot.
“Sorry about him. He’s got no manners.”
I reach behind me and give his additional appendage a little squeeze, which it seems to enjoy, judging by its enthusiastic quiver in my hand.
“Don’t you get lonely?” I ask suddenly.
The tentacle freezes in my hand before slipping away, then returning to my shoulder where it continues massaging small circles into my tight muscles.
