The thanks was a bit of a surprise, but it went out of his mind as soon as the captain started yelling orders. If he had felt unstable before, now he was grounded in the task at hand. As soon as he loosened the ropes to the sails he felt entirely in his element--he was no stranger to the sea, no stranger to the functions of ships. He was no fan of heights, but he left that part up to the other crewmen. He couldn’t say that it was in his blood, being that it wasn’t. Farming was in his blood, something set firmly on the land, but he thought, perhaps, sailing was in his heart, or his soul. Or, hell, even both.

He idly noticed that another person came aboard as he was securing ropes, though he didn’t hear anything other than the tail end of her voice over all the clamoring and yelling. Another woman, seemingly close to their captain from the view he very briefly got. Afterwards, the captain went down into the underbelly of the ship, suitcase in hand. Nëis considered following him, to speak with him regarding his position, but decided it would still be better to stay on deck to make sure everything continued going smoothly. He’d never liked not being on the deck of a ship, more than just being around to do his duties. He liked the view, the feeling of the wind and the taste and smell of the salty sea that permeated everything.

He’d get his bed later, and if he was too late for it, he’d sleep on the floor. The thought didn’t bother him much. But he would need to go down sooner rather than later, if only to grab a drink.