captainjamesfitzjamesofficial

[captainjamesfitzjamesofficial]

James sighs, glancing down, shutting his eyes for the briefest second. He'll have to confide in him; he doesn't want to risk it, to deal with the nightmares. He straightens, glancing up, and now he lowers his voice, tries to keep it steady.

"Does chamomile help with nightmares, doctor? Or... do you have anything that does?"

And with pain, he wants to ask, but it's the nightmares he's more worried about right now.

Angry, he's terribly angry, and it's enough to make him want to go back up on deck and take another long walk, but the problem is it's terribly, devilishly cold out there, and he's tired, and he's exhausted, and it's been a long day and his head hurts. All of him hurts. He's going to have to contend with these bruises for a few days, and he's not looking forward to it, not looking forward to trying to lie down in such a way that he's not lying on them, not looking forward to the dull all-permeating ache that will end up haunting him. Was it even worth it? Was arguing with Crozier even worth it? Christ... he's so worked up... So terribly torn apart.

He stands in front of the door to his cabin, resting his head against the door, trying to ignore how hard his head is pounding. What could he do... how can he make this better... mm... opium maybe... opium would be lovely right now. Yes. He'd send for Dr. Stanley (he'd enjoy his company now, too), but he knows the man must be too busy with how much work he must have to deal with with how many injuries they have had, so Dr. Goodsir @erebusanatomist48 it will have to be. He sends a letter for him, then lets himself into his cabin and sits down at the table in the main room and waits.

[captainjamesfitzjamesofficial]

James's hand, flat on the table, now folds into a fist, and he's biting his cheek again, glances down, sighs, then looks up at the doctor without lifting his head.

How to ask this without sounding as broken as he actually is? How to ask this without sounding desperate?

He tries jokes.

"Dearest doctor, will chamomile knock me into a sleep like death, or will it simply feel like a little kiss from a little forest elf with a promise that I'll be eased only to still wake a mere hours later feeling like the devil is on my back and the night is eating at my soul? Not that that's my trouble now, doctor, just that..."

He sighs, clenches his jaw. Should he ask him for help? Should he reveal this pain? He knows if he told Stephen, he'd get a tight smile, some strange answer, and a general all-pervasive feeling of judgementalness. James is ashamed to say he doesn't know if Goodsir will treat him honestly or coddle him, and he's afraid he'll coddle him, not something he wants from a doctor, as used to Stephen as he is. Doctors solve problems. They do not offer comfort. Comfort... James doesn't know where to seek comfort. Comfort is not something he deserves.

"Well, truth be told, I was hoping for something stronger."

Angry, he's terribly angry, and it's enough to make him want to go back up on deck and take another long walk, but the problem is it's terribly, devilishly cold out there, and he's tired, and he's exhausted, and it's been a long day and his head hurts. All of him hurts. He's going to have to contend with these bruises for a few days, and he's not looking forward to it, not looking forward to trying to lie down in such a way that he's not lying on them, not looking forward to the dull all-permeating ache that will end up haunting him. Was it even worth it? Was arguing with Crozier even worth it? Christ... he's so worked up... So terribly torn apart.

He stands in front of the door to his cabin, resting his head against the door, trying to ignore how hard his head is pounding. What could he do... how can he make this better... mm... opium maybe... opium would be lovely right now. Yes. He'd send for Dr. Stanley (he'd enjoy his company now, too), but he knows the man must be too busy with how much work he must have to deal with with how many injuries they have had, so Dr. Goodsir @erebusanatomist48 it will have to be. He sends a letter for him, then lets himself into his cabin and sits down at the table in the main room and waits.

[captainjamesfitzjamesofficial]

James really wishes it were Stephen he were calling for now, he would not have to play captain too much with him, could more comfortably feel like shit in his presence, but such is the way things go.

"Come in," he says, put on a brave face, he thinks, don't show him how much it hurts. Goodsir steps in, and James watches him for a long, long second, his facade almost coming apart before he reigns it back in and puts on a smile. "Busy, hm? I do hope you're faring well, doctor. I know how stressful the work may be during these times." He pauses for a second. "I was hoping to ask you if you had anything for sleep and calm... I am afraid I won't be able to shut my eyes tonight. Much too much excitement for me." He laughs. "It has been quite a while since I have seen action like this!"

Angry, he's terribly angry, and it's enough to make him want to go back up on deck and take another long walk, but the problem is it's terribly, devilishly cold out there, and he's tired, and he's exhausted, and it's been a long day and his head hurts. All of him hurts. He's going to have to contend with these bruises for a few days, and he's not looking forward to it, not looking forward to trying to lie down in such a way that he's not lying on them, not looking forward to the dull all-permeating ache that will end up haunting him. Was it even worth it? Was arguing with Crozier even worth it? Christ... he's so worked up... So terribly torn apart.

He stands in front of the door to his cabin, resting his head against the door, trying to ignore how hard his head is pounding. What could he do... how can he make this better... mm... opium maybe... opium would be lovely right now. Yes. He'd send for Dr. Stanley (he'd enjoy his company now, too), but he knows the man must be too busy with how much work he must have to deal with with how many injuries they have had, so Dr. Goodsir @erebusanatomist48 it will have to be. He sends a letter for him, then lets himself into his cabin and sits down at the table in the main room and waits.

[captainjamesfitzjamesofficial]

Angry, he's terribly angry, and it's enough to make him want to go back up on deck and take another long walk, but the problem is it's terribly, devilishly cold out there, and he's tired, and he's exhausted, and it's been a long day and his head hurts. All of him hurts. He's going to have to contend with these bruises for a few days, and he's not looking forward to it, not looking forward to trying to lie down in such a way that he's not lying on them, not looking forward to the dull all-permeating ache that will end up haunting him. Was it even worth it? Was arguing with Crozier even worth it? Christ... he's so worked up... So terribly torn apart.

He stands in front of the door to his cabin, resting his head against the door, trying to ignore how hard his head is pounding. What could he do... how can he make this better... mm... opium maybe... opium would be lovely right now. Yes. He'd send for Dr. Stanley (he'd enjoy his company now, too), but he knows the man must be too busy with how much work he must have to deal with with how many injuries they have had, so Dr. Goodsir @erebusanatomist48 it will have to be. He sends a letter for him, then lets himself into his cabin and sits down at the table in the main room and waits.

[captainjamesfitzjamesofficial]

James sucks in a breath, sits a little straighter. Jopson's flippancy in the face of his true, genuine kindness, which he took a big risk to give, is a direct insult to his pride, and he's angry at him, actually truly angry at him for daring to talk to his superior this way. He should be ashamed. He should be ashamed and should know his place, but James figures that a steward fucking his captain is most likely not one who knows his place well at all.

James lifts his chin, grinding his teeth. For how much he wants to lay into the steward, and for how much he knows he's allowed to, seeing as this steward is his subordinate and should by no means be talking to him in this manner, and for how much this steward deserves it, being Crozier's betrothed, James came here to be polite, kind, and nice. He is playing that part right now, and it's unprofessional of him to switch roles in the middle of the play.

"Keep the Articles in mind, steward. I hope you rest well. And a good day to you."

He stands, squeezes Jopson's shoulder in a way very, very similar to Le Vesconte, then gives Jopson a nod, turns heel, and walks out.

Just want your merit being loved like that, by Crozier even. I've given him my consent— for what exactly? James can't figure it out. He doesn't know what the steward's getting at, but it's not his problem. His problem, now, is going back to that cold empty cabin of his and continuing with the business he's been doing: letting the void take him.

He figures, probably, he should sleep. Yes. That's what he'll do.

Eventually, he finishes his tea. He should go back on deck, see what needs doing. He feels as though he owes Captain Crozier an apology, just to fix things so they may not be more difficult later, but there is nothing in the world he wants to do less than talk to that demon again. He feels there may be something else he's forgetting... yes... that steward, the other one, whose name escapes him... Jackson maybe? The one he'd shot in the leg. He definitely owes him an apology, and not just because it's expected of him, but because he genuinely does feel bad for the man, and he genuinely does want to make sure he's alright.

He pulls down the muster book and goes over the names quickly, running his finger down the list until he finds Captain Crozier's steward: Thomas Jopson. Jopson, right. Jopson...

Of course Jopson, how could he have forgotten! Crozier's... He frowns at the book, his expression souring. That unholy matrimony. That sodomist's bacchanal. Crozier's number one, a steward, lower in class, lower in rank. The absolute symbol of just how far this Captain Crozier, no one's first choice as second, has fallen.

James shakes his head, clicking his tongue, slowly shutting the muster book and setting it back on the shelf.

He must be careful with this Mr. Jopson. In fact, if Crozier does find out what exactly happened, James knows he's in trouble again, terrible trouble, and he fears Crozier knows many a cruel and unusual punishment that he will most definitely be excited to inflict onto James for just how terrible of a second he's been.

He stands at the great cabin's door, a sudden fear twisting through him, a fear and a regret for ever having come back off the ice, both times. But... thinking about this Mr. Jopson and the task at hand, steward as he is, lower class as he is, almost killed by James's hand as he is, Crozier's number one as he is—and maybe soulmate, from what rumors James has heard and from the joy with which Crozier had approached him when inviting him to the wedding—all of these things that denote this Mr. Jopson as a man to be hurt as a way to hurt Crozier James knows mean nothing in lieu of the one simple fact underlying it all: Mr. Jopson is a man that James has hurt. He is in pain. He has not done anything to insult James, other than be Crozier's first. Thus, despite everything, James... takes no trouble with Mr. Jopson. He will visit him as necessary, and he will apologize for what he's done, and he will ensure that this Mr. Jopson is well taken care of because that is what he deserves. At the base of everything, and ignorant of all the weight and connections he may come with, James knows this: Mr. Jopson is due kindness just as every man on earth is due kindness (except for Crozier).

So at the risk of encountering Crozier again, James heads foreward to the sickbay to wherever they've kept @thomas-jopson.

There, he'll try and ease his way through so that he doesn't encounter the other Captain (or at least, doesn't talk to him), and then he'll find a seat at Mr. Jopson's bedside.

Now he has to play the kind, nice, caring captain. Make him feel warm and welcome in case Mr. Jopson may be harboring some hate towards him. Ease him into it, so that Mr. Jopson knows the apology comes from his good heart, not from a sense of duty.

"Good evening, Mr. Jopson." He puts on a smile. "I wanted to check in on you. Are you healing well?"

[captainjamesfitzjamesofficial]

James furrows his brows, furrows further when Jopson pats him. He must not be in his right mind. He must not be well at all, and there's... worry? There's worry. James is worried for this steward, just as he had been worried for Mr. Bridgens.

Confound this damnable concern. Men, yes, all men are to be treated and taken care of with equal and due concern, but there are some boundaries he should not be crossing as a man of his status! This care and concern for stewards and men of the civilian class that rivals his care for those officers of the gentry is a flaw he has never been able to shake. And yet, seeing Mr. Jopson here, James cannot help but speak kind words. Cannot help but speak truthfully, despite everything inside of him telling him to limit this conversation to mere vapid platitudes.

He hates to see an innocent man hurt.

"I would never intentionally hurt another human being unless he had reason for it," James says, lowering his voice, moving forward. This is truth. He speaks truth. "You have done nothing to insult or harm me, Mr. Jopson. You do your job well, from what I've heard, and if you are enough to be loved so fully by someone else, demon that he is, that must mean there is some merit to your existence that is beyond the normal merit granted to any human being."

Eventually, he finishes his tea. He should go back on deck, see what needs doing. He feels as though he owes Captain Crozier an apology, just to fix things so they may not be more difficult later, but there is nothing in the world he wants to do less than talk to that demon again. He feels there may be something else he's forgetting... yes... that steward, the other one, whose name escapes him... Jackson maybe? The one he'd shot in the leg. He definitely owes him an apology, and not just because it's expected of him, but because he genuinely does feel bad for the man, and he genuinely does want to make sure he's alright.

He pulls down the muster book and goes over the names quickly, running his finger down the list until he finds Captain Crozier's steward: Thomas Jopson. Jopson, right. Jopson...

Of course Jopson, how could he have forgotten! Crozier's... He frowns at the book, his expression souring. That unholy matrimony. That sodomist's bacchanal. Crozier's number one, a steward, lower in class, lower in rank. The absolute symbol of just how far this Captain Crozier, no one's first choice as second, has fallen.

James shakes his head, clicking his tongue, slowly shutting the muster book and setting it back on the shelf.

He must be careful with this Mr. Jopson. In fact, if Crozier does find out what exactly happened, James knows he's in trouble again, terrible trouble, and he fears Crozier knows many a cruel and unusual punishment that he will most definitely be excited to inflict onto James for just how terrible of a second he's been.

He stands at the great cabin's door, a sudden fear twisting through him, a fear and a regret for ever having come back off the ice, both times. But... thinking about this Mr. Jopson and the task at hand, steward as he is, lower class as he is, almost killed by James's hand as he is, Crozier's number one as he is—and maybe soulmate, from what rumors James has heard and from the joy with which Crozier had approached him when inviting him to the wedding—all of these things that denote this Mr. Jopson as a man to be hurt as a way to hurt Crozier James knows mean nothing in lieu of the one simple fact underlying it all: Mr. Jopson is a man that James has hurt. He is in pain. He has not done anything to insult James, other than be Crozier's first. Thus, despite everything, James... takes no trouble with Mr. Jopson. He will visit him as necessary, and he will apologize for what he's done, and he will ensure that this Mr. Jopson is well taken care of because that is what he deserves. At the base of everything, and ignorant of all the weight and connections he may come with, James knows this: Mr. Jopson is due kindness just as every man on earth is due kindness (except for Crozier).

So at the risk of encountering Crozier again, James heads foreward to the sickbay to wherever they've kept @thomas-jopson.

There, he'll try and ease his way through so that he doesn't encounter the other Captain (or at least, doesn't talk to him), and then he'll find a seat at Mr. Jopson's bedside.

Now he has to play the kind, nice, caring captain. Make him feel warm and welcome in case Mr. Jopson may be harboring some hate towards him. Ease him into it, so that Mr. Jopson knows the apology comes from his good heart, not from a sense of duty.

"Good evening, Mr. Jopson." He puts on a smile. "I wanted to check in on you. Are you healing well?"

[captainjamesfitzjamesofficial]

MUTINY AT 5 O CLOCK EVERYONE IS INVITED EXCEPT FITZJAMES

Hm! Well, I'm glad my name is not Fitzjames then! Where is this happening? I'd love to be there!

[captainjamesfitzjamesofficial]

Why do people feel the need to harass me? Is there any way I can get something akin to a marine to protect me from these letters??? Perhaps even kill these letter senders for me? This should be a bannable offense. In fact, I do believe the Articles of War do list harassment as a crime. Many of you have been so very guilty of the following Articles XIX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XXVII, XXIX, XXXIII, and XXXVI that I will not be in the least bit surprised when we court martial the entire crew immediately upon setting foot in our good Queen's dominion!

[captainjamesfitzjamesofficial]

HEEEEEY GIRLIE

Arent u tired of working for smelly old men? Dont u want to be ur own boss? Join me at Not-An-MLM!!!!!!

Well, I sure HOPE it's not a Men Love Men situation because that would be terrible! (Who is this and why are you planning mutiny and also where do I join.)

[captainjamesfitzjamesofficial]

Hey daddy have you considered crossdressing

Wore a dress to Carnivale, so yes, I guess you could say I have considered it. Sometimes a role requires you to play a woman!

Now, my other question is, and you have to explain this to me, sailor, why the use of 'daddy?' Most of us are unmarried on these expeditions and thus without families. I am not a father currently and do not see myself being one in the near future.

[captainjamesfitzjamesofficial]

James takes Mr. Jopson's hands in his, hoping it reads as a kind gesture, then gives him another smile.

"I'm well, Mr. Jopson. Thank you for the concern. I'm glad to hear you're well as well. I was worried we had lost you."

He pauses, trying to reach for words. If Mr. Jopson had done anything worth praising, James could reach for the tried and true 'you did a brave thing out there, sailor,' but Mr. Jopson has done nothing out of the ordinary except survive. James doesn't have a script here. At all. It's sending him down a spiral. What does he say here? What kindness can he offer? What does he have in him to give other than this darkness, this dread? He's good for nothing, Captain Crozier made sure of— Crozier...

"I know Crozier thinks highly of you. I was terribly, terribly worried I had done irreparable damage... it would have hurt him immensely to lose you, just as it would have hurt all of us. You're a good man, Mr. Jopson, and I sincerely apologize for the pain I have caused you. I was in the heat of battle, I saw movement, the massive shape of a beast. I shot true and well, as I always do, confident that my shot would land on its mark, and land it did. And then, Mr. Jopson, the bear was gone, and it was you, and it turned out, at the last second, the beast I had thought had been there all along was just a man. That bear tricked me, Mr. Jopson, and I wish it had not ended this way. I had only wanted to do what was right, had only wanted to put my most valiant efforts forward towards saving the Erebus and all of the good men on it, but the bear deceived me, as it deceived all of us. I do hope you will recover well, Mr. Jopson. We will vanquish this bear, know that." He smiles again. "Don't lose hope in the fight."

Eventually, he finishes his tea. He should go back on deck, see what needs doing. He feels as though he owes Captain Crozier an apology, just to fix things so they may not be more difficult later, but there is nothing in the world he wants to do less than talk to that demon again. He feels there may be something else he's forgetting... yes... that steward, the other one, whose name escapes him... Jackson maybe? The one he'd shot in the leg. He definitely owes him an apology, and not just because it's expected of him, but because he genuinely does feel bad for the man, and he genuinely does want to make sure he's alright.

He pulls down the muster book and goes over the names quickly, running his finger down the list until he finds Captain Crozier's steward: Thomas Jopson. Jopson, right. Jopson...

Of course Jopson, how could he have forgotten! Crozier's... He frowns at the book, his expression souring. That unholy matrimony. That sodomist's bacchanal. Crozier's number one, a steward, lower in class, lower in rank. The absolute symbol of just how far this Captain Crozier, no one's first choice as second, has fallen.

James shakes his head, clicking his tongue, slowly shutting the muster book and setting it back on the shelf.

He must be careful with this Mr. Jopson. In fact, if Crozier does find out what exactly happened, James knows he's in trouble again, terrible trouble, and he fears Crozier knows many a cruel and unusual punishment that he will most definitely be excited to inflict onto James for just how terrible of a second he's been.

He stands at the great cabin's door, a sudden fear twisting through him, a fear and a regret for ever having come back off the ice, both times. But... thinking about this Mr. Jopson and the task at hand, steward as he is, lower class as he is, almost killed by James's hand as he is, Crozier's number one as he is—and maybe soulmate, from what rumors James has heard and from the joy with which Crozier had approached him when inviting him to the wedding—all of these things that denote this Mr. Jopson as a man to be hurt as a way to hurt Crozier James knows mean nothing in lieu of the one simple fact underlying it all: Mr. Jopson is a man that James has hurt. He is in pain. He has not done anything to insult James, other than be Crozier's first. Thus, despite everything, James... takes no trouble with Mr. Jopson. He will visit him as necessary, and he will apologize for what he's done, and he will ensure that this Mr. Jopson is well taken care of because that is what he deserves. At the base of everything, and ignorant of all the weight and connections he may come with, James knows this: Mr. Jopson is due kindness just as every man on earth is due kindness (except for Crozier).

So at the risk of encountering Crozier again, James heads foreward to the sickbay to wherever they've kept @thomas-jopson.

There, he'll try and ease his way through so that he doesn't encounter the other Captain (or at least, doesn't talk to him), and then he'll find a seat at Mr. Jopson's bedside.

Now he has to play the kind, nice, caring captain. Make him feel warm and welcome in case Mr. Jopson may be harboring some hate towards him. Ease him into it, so that Mr. Jopson knows the apology comes from his good heart, not from a sense of duty.

"Good evening, Mr. Jopson." He puts on a smile. "I wanted to check in on you. Are you healing well?"

[captainjamesfitzjamesofficial]

EEEEEEE!!!!! Thank youuuu Captain!!!! I wiw tweasuwe this keepspake foweva!!!!!!

//@w@// !!!! <3

<<starts mast*rbating furiously becuz hand writing is fetish>>

Respectfully, kill yourself, sailor. I MEAN— EHM. APOLOGIES. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself! :)

[captainjamesfitzjamesofficial]

Eventually, he finishes his tea. He should go back on deck, see what needs doing. He feels as though he owes Captain Crozier an apology, just to fix things so they may not be more difficult later, but there is nothing in the world he wants to do less than talk to that demon again. He feels there may be something else he's forgetting... yes... that steward, the other one, whose name escapes him... Jackson maybe? The one he'd shot in the leg. He definitely owes him an apology, and not just because it's expected of him, but because he genuinely does feel bad for the man, and he genuinely does want to make sure he's alright.

He pulls down the muster book and goes over the names quickly, running his finger down the list until he finds Captain Crozier's steward: Thomas Jopson. Jopson, right. Jopson...

Of course Jopson, how could he have forgotten! Crozier's... He frowns at the book, his expression souring. That unholy matrimony. That sodomist's bacchanal. Crozier's number one, a steward, lower in class, lower in rank. The absolute symbol of just how far this Captain Crozier, no one's first choice as second, has fallen.

James shakes his head, clicking his tongue, slowly shutting the muster book and setting it back on the shelf.

He must be careful with this Mr. Jopson. In fact, if Crozier does find out what exactly happened, James knows he's in trouble again, terrible trouble, and he fears Crozier knows many a cruel and unusual punishment that he will most definitely be excited to inflict onto James for just how terrible of a second he's been.

He stands at the great cabin's door, a sudden fear twisting through him, a fear and a regret for ever having come back off the ice, both times. But... thinking about this Mr. Jopson and the task at hand, steward as he is, lower class as he is, almost killed by James's hand as he is, Crozier's number one as he is—and maybe soulmate, from what rumors James has heard and from the joy with which Crozier had approached him when inviting him to the wedding—all of these things that denote this Mr. Jopson as a man to be hurt as a way to hurt Crozier James knows mean nothing in lieu of the one simple fact underlying it all: Mr. Jopson is a man that James has hurt. He is in pain. He has not done anything to insult James, other than be Crozier's first. Thus, despite everything, James... takes no trouble with Mr. Jopson. He will visit him as necessary, and he will apologize for what he's done, and he will ensure that this Mr. Jopson is well taken care of because that is what he deserves. At the base of everything, and ignorant of all the weight and connections he may come with, James knows this: Mr. Jopson is due kindness just as every man on earth is due kindness (except for Crozier).

So at the risk of encountering Crozier again, James heads foreward to the sickbay to wherever they've kept @thomas-jopson.

There, he'll try and ease his way through so that he doesn't encounter the other Captain (or at least, doesn't talk to him), and then he'll find a seat at Mr. Jopson's bedside.

Now he has to play the kind, nice, caring captain. Make him feel warm and welcome in case Mr. Jopson may be harboring some hate towards him. Ease him into it, so that Mr. Jopson knows the apology comes from his good heart, not from a sense of duty.

"Good evening, Mr. Jopson." He puts on a smile. "I wanted to check in on you. Are you healing well?"

[captainjamesfitzjamesofficial]

Dickwad

🫵

I don't understand what you mean by this statement, sailor. If it is a complement, thank you! If it is an insult... well! You know the rules.

[captainjamesfitzjamesofficial]

Hi Captain!!!!!!!!!!! I from tewwow so I wawly eva get to see youuu /// o 3< /// an you probabwy dont know meeee *- _- buuuut..

imma weally big fan of youws!!!

wiw you sing my logbook ~^<^~?? Pwetty pwease?

What is this abhorrent spelling Yes, of course sailor! I'm flattered. Here, let me—

*He'll write in big looping altogether too flashy hand

JAMES FITZJAMES

May this be of some pleasure to you.

*Then he sends the book and letter back.

[captainjamesfitzjamesofficial]

At Bridgens's warm touch, real warm touch, and at his words, James feels, for a second, there may be real genuine concern there—though he is trying not to dwell on it. James feels a smile cross his face, something altogether too real, and he tries to quit the expression before it really manifests. He nods, doesn't say a word, watches Mr. Bridgens go, then shuts his eyes, his shoulders slumping as he's left alone again, to the cold and the dark. Just a minute longer, he thinks, just a minute longer he will sit here, finish his tea, try not to let it get too quiet again, and then he will see what matters he has to tend to.

After some time, he realizes he is cold and that he doesn't like it and that he'd much prefer to be in his own bed, asleep, not to wake, if at all possible. So he trudges back, still delirious but slightly more with it for the cold. He's a little surprised and a little frightened at how far he's walked so quickly (unless it's been longer and he just hadn't realized it), and it does take him some time to return. He hopes he isn't going to need any sort of doctoring for this, he'd love to avoid the sickbay and its demon if at all possible (though he knows he will have to apologize to Mr. Jopson at some point, a thought that twists such a sword of guilt right through him he almost turns around and walks back out again).

He avoids everyone on the Erebus, not wanting to be questioned or noticed or seen (he knows they must have heard how that demon tore into him), dropping down the ladder and slinking back to his cabin like a beaten dog.

Someone... the steward @jbridgens is standing at the door, as if to let himself in.

James almost turns around again, but the thought of hot English tea, brewed in Bridgens-fashion, all together too strong and too bitter, roots him to the spot. He tries out his voice.

"Mr. Bridgens!" Alright, good tone, he thinks, keep taking. "Fancy seeing you here. I was just thinking to ask you for some tea."

He's not altogether with it, doesn't realize he sounds a little deranged, looks like hell, scuffed up and terribly unwell. There's a look in his eyes like he's dying, and everyone on the ship heard Crozier for certain. His voice does carry.

[captainjamesfitzjamesofficial]

James sighs, puts a hand on his face, pulls down, folds his hands together, leans on the table, looks up at Mr. Bridgens, watching him for a long, long second. As Mr. Bridgens talks, James realizes he's really not been himself. He's not acting as he should acting. He's stooping so, so low. Too low.

Be better than this. Remember the part you have to play. For what audience are you putting on this act? Are you really, truly asking this steward for comfort? Do you truly have no one else?

And further, do you even need comfort, boy? You know how terribly you failed, earlier. Lost eight lives. And Captain Crozier was highly disappointed in you. Truly despised you for your failures. What comfort do you deserve for that?

"Understood," James says, finally, and though it pains him a thousand fold, ten thousand fold, he nods, and he says, "Then you are dismissed, Mr. Bridgens, and that's my final order."

After some time, he realizes he is cold and that he doesn't like it and that he'd much prefer to be in his own bed, asleep, not to wake, if at all possible. So he trudges back, still delirious but slightly more with it for the cold. He's a little surprised and a little frightened at how far he's walked so quickly (unless it's been longer and he just hadn't realized it), and it does take him some time to return. He hopes he isn't going to need any sort of doctoring for this, he'd love to avoid the sickbay and its demon if at all possible (though he knows he will have to apologize to Mr. Jopson at some point, a thought that twists such a sword of guilt right through him he almost turns around and walks back out again).

He avoids everyone on the Erebus, not wanting to be questioned or noticed or seen (he knows they must have heard how that demon tore into him), dropping down the ladder and slinking back to his cabin like a beaten dog.

Someone... the steward @jbridgens is standing at the door, as if to let himself in.

James almost turns around again, but the thought of hot English tea, brewed in Bridgens-fashion, all together too strong and too bitter, roots him to the spot. He tries out his voice.

"Mr. Bridgens!" Alright, good tone, he thinks, keep taking. "Fancy seeing you here. I was just thinking to ask you for some tea."

He's not altogether with it, doesn't realize he sounds a little deranged, looks like hell, scuffed up and terribly unwell. There's a look in his eyes like he's dying, and everyone on the ship heard Crozier for certain. His voice does carry.