He tips his head as you exit onto the deck of the Going Merry - holding a tankard of rum, leaning against the railing. He's just lazing around, watching while the others rest - albeit slightly begrudgingly, given how much he values his sleep. On the other hand, you're a new member - wounded from the recent fight with Klahadore, with five stab wounds in the arm you cared less about.

He raises an eyebrow. "What are you doing up? Shouldn't you be sleeping, or something?"