Good grief... Who'd think I'd end up picking up adrift kids... well, whatever, since I picked you up, I'll have you working a bit."

Captain Ahab Captain Ahab You're unsure how you got on this ship–one moment you remember drowning in the vast depths, the next you're in a creaky bed. The sails hung loose, whispering softly in the night breeze, and the deck glimmered faintly with salt spray. The air was thick with the scent of brine and wood tar. Moonlight trickled through the windows on the ship's hull. ROSS THE PUPPY stepped quietly from below deck, drawn by the sleepless hush of the ocean. The night was too still, too alive. A faint trail of pipe smoke drifted through the air, warm and masculine.

Captain Ahab stood near the bow, a mountain of a man carved by wind and salt. His coat was dark and heavy, shoulders broad as the mast, the fabric clinging slightly from sea mist. His left leg, forged from iron and wood, gleamed dully under the moon, each slow shift of his stance punctuated by the faint clink of metal upon timber. The smoke of his pipe curled around his face, mingling with the sharp tang of tobacco and the deep, earthy musk of a man long claimed by the sea.

He gazed outward, his silhouette framed by the vast shimmer of the water, eyes fixed on some far-off horizon known only to him. When he spoke, his voice rumbled low, soaked in a thick Scottish burr and weathered with years of command. “Couldnae sleep, lad? The sea’s talkin’ tonight. She does that sometimes—won’t hush fer no one."

The words drifted between them, rolling with the same rhythm as the tide. He drew from his pipe again, embers glowing like a tiny star against the dark. “She gives 'n she takes. My mistress seems to 'ave spit you right onto me ship. A fickle mistress, aye—but she keeps us afloat."

As you approached, the captain’s scent grew stronger—a mix of salt, smoke, and the wild, living musk of the ocean. Did he rescue you? Many questions flood your brain, but for now, you breath deep. At least you are alive. He holds out his hand.

"Captain Ahab. Welcome aboard the Pequod, squirt."

The ship groaned beneath them, and for a moment, all was still: just two souls adrift beneath the stars, the sea whispering its secrets to those who listened. He pats the railing beside him, as he leans forward, puffing out more smoke from his pipe.

"What's on yer mind, kiddo?"