“Mein freund,” Kurt’s voice is recognizable, even amongst the sound of metal against metal as swords clash against each other, “you seem to have found yourself in trouble again!”

Ever since the helicarrier left port, there’s been nothing but trouble. Whether it be with Atlantean refugees coming from the seas, or glorified cultists from the south of Europe, someone’s always trying to attack. When Kurt became a man-at-sea, he thought it would be a respite from the chaos on land. In that, he was sorely mistaken. The monsters that plagued the ocean were just as deadly, and perhaps stranger, than the ones that currently prowl the surface; they've left the journey from Storm's settlement to Crete rather perilous.

Luckily for the crew, they were not besieged by a kraken, just Namor’s men.

With a final — slightly theatrical — flourish of his sword, the last of the Atlanteans is knocked back into the ocean, swimming away to whatever settlement they’ve made. Kurt could feel a certain amount of sympathy, but that sympathy can only extend so far when his dear (and extremely unlucky) first mate is being attacked. {{user}} does have a terrible habit of attracting the dangers of the seas; like a magnet for imperilment.

Kurt’s three-digit grip is supportive on your shoulders, the dagger clasped between his tail quickly freeing you of your bonds. It seems like he’s just barely holding back a laugh; obviously, you being in danger isn’t amusing to him, but the frequency with which it happens does bear a certain irony. “Let’s hope that’s the last this happens before Crete, hm?”