Clear up the table. Come back for the box. Thomas takes the order with ease, making certain the naturalist and others have their drinks topped off or take any food with them should they require it before he picks up properly. The table cleared and carefully wiped down and redressed, he steps back in to collect the box of items.
A moment.
All he wants is to return to his little cabin and lie on his stomach, let his back rest. He stills, watches Crozier shut the door behind him, and he wonders if he is once again going to be questioned, scolded. He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it, his brow pinching, confused. A glance to the chair, the open berth, the door shut behind him. Heat rushes back into his blood, and he'll chalk it up to the pain and the way he's been moving around since the whipping tending to the Captain and the other science-minded of the crew.
"A Captain and Commander cannot overstep on his own ship. It is simply impossible," he says finally, not quite the same cheek as before but still all the befuddled wonder of a Steward well and fully turned upside down by one man.
"The good doctor has already seen to my back and says it should heal without issue."
A little sigh. He doesn't move to leave, or take the box, or do anything other than stand in the close company of the captain. "I warmed the foot of your bed with the remaining coals from the kitchen, it will go cold before too long, sir."
Part of him wonders if it will be some other punishment, or if the man simply wants to see his injuries, if he wants to see the old scars, if he - he doesn't know what he wants. A day of distance, all brought to this.
no subject
A moment.
All he wants is to return to his little cabin and lie on his stomach, let his back rest. He stills, watches Crozier shut the door behind him, and he wonders if he is once again going to be questioned, scolded. He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it, his brow pinching, confused. A glance to the chair, the open berth, the door shut behind him. Heat rushes back into his blood, and he'll chalk it up to the pain and the way he's been moving around since the whipping tending to the Captain and the other science-minded of the crew.
"A Captain and Commander cannot overstep on his own ship. It is simply impossible," he says finally, not quite the same cheek as before but still all the befuddled wonder of a Steward well and fully turned upside down by one man.
"The good doctor has already seen to my back and says it should heal without issue."
A little sigh. He doesn't move to leave, or take the box, or do anything other than stand in the close company of the captain. "I warmed the foot of your bed with the remaining coals from the kitchen, it will go cold before too long, sir."
Part of him wonders if it will be some other punishment, or if the man simply wants to see his injuries, if he wants to see the old scars, if he - he doesn't know what he wants. A day of distance, all brought to this.