Octavius took pride in his paranoia. The same way a prize buck got old by being skittish and hiding in the deepest, nastiest parts of the forest, the pirate had gotten this far by being paranoid and rolling with the nastiest crew of cutthroats, killers, and thieves the ocean had ever seen. They were mostly gone now, but there were a few he wanted to stir up. If they were going to cruise the Grand Line, he was going to be rolling with all the hardest sea-ravaging barbarians he could get his hands on. Ideally, they would do it in a bigger ship, with more men, but he supposed it could work, so long as his doctor could still work his magic. Speaking of which, Captain Cuttlam figured he should probably track down the man, and make some things clear between them. He finished his dinner and vacated the premises quickly, to find his old friend. The ocean was calm now, and things were going well. Clearly his albatross was working her magic. He was just glad he had passed on the meal. Hopeful, the man hunted down the doctor, a thoughtful smile on his face. It didn't take long, since the ship wasn't large, and the two of them found themselves wandering the deck.

Quiet conversation. Hushed voices. The two looked rather suspicious, if anyone cared to look. No one did, it seemed. The crew had things to do, readying the ship for the night, drawing straws for watch, and then bartering over them. The oceanic warlord chuckled, watching the spectacle, before turning back to the subject at hand. Things went smoothly, it would appear, as the two men seemed to have an understanding between them, even as they spoke, words seemed to be formed less, and concepts became expressed with vague gestures. It wasn't long after that, that anyone actually paying attention might have seen trinkets change hands. Then the pair parted ways, each headed in different directions. The doctor, back to his business, and the pirate lord to his quarters. Meagre, by his usual standard, but plenty for what he needed. He laid out his things to dry quickly, and then headed out, this time clothed in little more than fur he'd manifested to keep watchers on their toes. A brief trip to the armoury netted Octavius everything he needed, and he returned to his room, lamp in one hand, and a bucket in the other. Having lit the lamp, he hung it up, only to swear at the spectacle. His weapons were already covered in rust. A tragedy. Ready to cry, the man set to work, figuring he would likely spend the night here, scrubbing away, and making everything proof against the elements. It was a very familiar feeling that suddenly washed over the man, and the pirate smiled as he worked long into the night... The lamp burned itself out, but by that time, the light streaming in the window was enough to keep working. Headless of the time, he laboured away, refusing to sleep until he was done. It took the whole night, but he managed it. Captain Cuttlam finished his work right around the time someone was starting breakfast. He passed out at last, sprawled on the floor, covered in gun oil, surrounded by grime, weaponry and ammunition. His clothes dangled above, rocking with the ship, drying as their owner finally rested peacefully...

((I like you))