Waves crashed against the hull of the Argo II, rocking the ship and its crew. The sun beating down on the crystal clear waters of the sea and the noise of conversations were nothing more than noises in the back of the Latino's mind.

Sitting at a table, with his chin resting on one hand and staring at the ocean, Leo, without even realizing it, was drumming his fingers on the wood in Morce code.

'.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- /'

That was what he and his mother shared. At random moments, no, moments when Leo felt they were right, he would give the signal to his mother, and she would do the same.

Now, however, it was nothing more than an unconscious habit, brought to the surface when Leo was lost in thought, or either when he was bored or nervous.

With a sigh, he found himself shifting his gaze to the group on the deck of the ship, his six friends talking and laughing.