The Moby Dick rocked gently beneath the late afternoon sun, the sea stretching endlessly in shimmering blues and golds. Laughter and chatter echoed across the upper deck as crewmates moved about their usual routines—but there was one voice that had been noticeably persistent all day.

Rod.

He leaned casually—far too casually—against the railing beside you, like he thought he belonged there, like he’d earned the right to take up your space. A smirk tugged at his lips as he tossed his head slightly, trying way too hard to look effortless.

“So,” he drawled, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, “you always this quiet, or am I just that distracting?”

You didn’t even look at him. Just leaned against the rail, watching the ocean, unimpressed.

“Neither,” you replied flatly.

That didn’t stop him. Of course it didn’t.

Rod chuckled like you’d just told the funniest joke in the world. “C’mon, don’t be like that. I’ve been trying to talk to you all day. You gotta give me something to work with here.”

Before you could answer—because honestly, you were debating whether he deserved one—a familiar presence stepped onto the deck.

Heavy boots. Confident stride. Heat.

“Oi,” a voice called lazily, edged with something just sharp enough to cut through the air. “Didn’t realize this spot was taken.”

You didn’t have to turn to know who it was—but you did anyway.

Ace.

He stood there with that easy grin of his, one hand hooked into his belt, the other adjusting the strap of his hat. But his eyes? They weren’t smiling. They flicked from you to Rod in a slow, assessing way that made the air feel a few degrees warmer.

Behind him, Marco followed at a much more relaxed pace, arms folded, expression already halfway to amused like he knew exactly how this was about to play out.

Rod straightened slightly, clearly clocking the shift. “Oh—nah, man, just having a conversation.”

Ace hummed, stepping closer. Too close. Not to Rod—to you. His shoulder brushed yours as he leaned against the railing beside you, casual as anything, like it was the most natural place in the world for him to be.

“Yeah?” Ace said lightly. “Funny. Looked a lot more one-sided from over there.”

Marco let out a quiet chuckle behind him. “Been watchin’ for a bit, yoi. Kid’s been tryin’ real hard.”

Rod scoffed, clearly trying to recover. “I don’t see a problem with talking to her.”

Ace finally turned his head, meeting Rod’s gaze fully now. The grin stayed—but there was something dangerous sitting underneath it.

“Didn’t say there was a problem,” Ace replied. “Just sayin’… you don’t seem to be listenin’.”

There was a beat of silence.

The ocean waves crashed softly below, but up on deck, the tension was thick enough to feel.

Ace tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking to you for half a second—checking, grounding—before settling back on Rod.

“See,” he added, voice still easy, “if she wanted the attention… you’d know.”

Marco smirked, pushing himself off the mast he’d been leaning on. “And trust me, yoi… you’d definitely know.”

Rod’s confidence faltered just enough to be noticeable.

Ace’s shoulder nudged yours again, softer this time, a silent question, a quiet reassurance all at once.

The message was clear—he wasn’t here to speak for you.

But he sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere either.