There was no one for you to blame, really. Neither of you could stop the waves from throwing you off course, and you didn’t ask the weather to be so horrible that you were left stranded on an island you hadn’t seen on any map before.

You tried to blame Ace, chiding him for rushing you out to sea when you warning him the timing was awful. He was pointing fingers all the same, reminding you that you were the one to pick the route. You probably would’ve been at each other’s throats if not for the rain. It seemed to dampen your anger into quiet resentment.

Within the hour, you found a cave; it was cold and damp all the same, but at least it wasn’t pouring. Ace waited until he was dry enough to spark up a fire, but you wondered if he’s *been dry, and just choosing not to light a fire for you out of spite; you wouldn’t put it past him. You, on the other hand, shivered and clung to your own wet clothes. The silence was probably best, if you wanted to get out of here without wanting to chop your own head off from his yapping.

Just when you thought you could catch a break, you could feel Ace’s eyes glance over at you from his respective side of the cave.

“You’re better off letting your clothes air dry rather than clinging to them while they’re still wet.” His words hung in the air for a moment before he scoffed.

“Can’t talk or what?”