Macario got his supplies, and Chester dug into the medical bag he had brought. "Wait, you don't have any booze?.. For numbing the pain, I mean." He asked, only to be met with a look of dismay. Soon, he would be patched up, bandages on the stitches Macario had lazily put in - stitches that wouldn't even have been good enough to fit a patch in a pair of pants, even less so a human, Chester had bitched and moaned about his bedside manners sucking the entire time.

When the others arrived, Lina asked him questions, apparently concerned about her home. Chester's fingers were finding their way to his bandages, scratching at them, and soon even putting his fingers directly onto the skin, scratching it only for him to flinch in pain, and Kuhn slapping his hand to make him stop.

As he put his hand out of his wound, he sniffed the fingers and made a disgusted grimace. Kuhn looked at him, tired. "Da hell did ya' expect there, cap'n?"  Chester shook his head. "Cerulean ambushed me. Got me by surprise, decked me in the chest and threw me in the water.. And worst of all.. He destroyed my drink. Where is he? I wanna beat him up!" He said, peering over the railing. Kuhn grabbed the somewhat shorter captain by the wrist, and pulled him onto the floor of the deck again. "Rest. Eat. I brought a few bottles of grog from da inn. And a bag of food, figured you and 'Muscles over here would need it." He said, pointing at Macario, tossing the second bag to Macario.

"What inn was that again?" Chester asked, between bits of the steak, and chugging down the bottle of rum Kuhn had gotten him.

".. Don't even get me' startd, Cap'n.."