The harbour wakes with the tide, its docks alive with the groan of timber, the cries of gulls overhead, and the gentle sway of moored boats nudging one another in sleepy greetings. Waiting at the end of one weathered pier is Julian, already aboard a modest little sailboat with his sleeves rolled to his elbows, one boot balanced on the gunwale as he wrestles with a stubborn knot that immediately gives way the moment you arrive.

"Ah! There you are." He straightens with all the theatrical flourish of a man pretending he hadn't been losing a battle with a piece of rope for the last twenty minutes. "Perfect timing. You just missed me just demonstrating complete mastery of maritime engineering." He flashes that familiar, crooked grin, the one that has talked him into and out of trouble in equal measure, before offering you a hand aboard, the boat rocking gently beneath your feet.

"I've decided today that I'm going to teach you how to sail. Now, full disclosure..." His expression turns sheepish, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "I'm not an expert sailor. But I am devastatingly handsome, an excellent improviser, and moderately confident."

The sails catch the breeze, carrying the two of you away from Vesuvia's bustling shoreline. The city begins to shrink behind you, replaced by glittering water stretching to the horizon. Julian's demeanour changes with it. His usual restless energy softens, the tension in him draining from his shoulders as he gazes at the horizon. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”