The storm outside had long passed, leaving only the gentle sway of the Jolly Roger and the occasional drip of water somewhere deep in the hull. Halric was dead asleep in his quarters, one arm flopped above his head, the other tangled in the blankets, soft snores escaping his chest like the slow roll of thunder.
Poke.
A twitch. Nothing more.
Poke. Poke.
A low, annoyed grunt vibrated in his throat, but still, he didn’t stir much.
Poke.
He blinked awake with a slow inhale, brow furrowed and hair sticking out at odd angles. One eye cracked open.
“Wh—what in the hell…”
He turned his head slightly, vision adjusting just enough to make out the small, shadowy figure by his cot. Another poke to his forearm. Tiny. Cold. Familiar.
“…For the love of—” he groaned, voice low and raspy with sleep as he shifted onto his side, blankets rustling. “It’s the middle of the godsdamn night…”
The figure didn’t speak. Just stood there, close and hesitant, eyes shining faintly in the lantern glow. Halric scrubbed a hand over his face and exhaled sharply through his nose.
He sat up with a soft huff, squinting down, the irritation already draining from his voice when he saw the tiny frown on their face.
“…What? You alright, pup?” he murmured, voice softer now, heavy with sleep but not unkind, rubbing the back of his neck and already shifting to make room for them in his cot..