Wheel sat quietly and watched Uban get progressively more destroyed. There were more nights than Wheel could count that he'd joined in, but tonight wasn't one of them. Wheel nursed a mug of the soldier's wine as he ate his dinner. Other than the cursory attention he paid to the conversation, Wheel was occupied with his thoughts. He'd have to see how Uban was using his lightning, he'd have to see if Hana could work magic if she was being shot at. Pieter and the Cap'n were ready- though if he had his way, Berlin would work down some of the gut that was starting to appear. The kid.

The kid. 

There are some things in life that you take for granted. The sun rises in the east, sets in the west. The armor on a gendarme would withstand shot. The kid would be dead in 20 years if he didn't know how to fight. And for once- for goddamn once- Wheel thought it'd do some good if he could teach the kid. Teeth and claws didn't last long against steel and shot. 

Hana looked happy. That was nice, Wheel guessed. The curse was twisting around him right now, and everything in his periphery had faded to black. His stomach was unpleasantly full and ravenous. He considered going to vomit, but he knew that a full stomach helped keep the curse from it's full extent. There were times when it was alive, and would punish and reward him. Tonight it was unthinking, a burden that was slowly taking everything he had. 

Uban had started singing- one of those tavern rounds that peasants loved when their wives weren't around. Wheel remembered a few stanzas from this song- or one close enough to it that it didn't matter much. He opened his mouth and belched. Closing his eyes, he listened as Uban tried to ply Hana into playing music with him, and pretended he was back in Tyrohl. It had been hard- but the hardness was what made it easy. Once you have the hang of it, cruelty is a very simple thing. Wheel was taught to be cruel early on, but the [i]Borealis[/i] was different. Berlin didn't lead with cruelty. And it worked most of the time, Wheel admitted that. It just meant that the cruelty that did happen was shocking. 

Wheel watched as the boy went to Pieter, asking him about mermaids. The priest took the pipe out of his mouth to answer, "How did her scales feel, lad? I figure you can grow a tail no trouble, and get the hair to boot. But that's not a mermaid, not really. They're not animals, and they're not people. They're mermaids, and that makes em different to the rest of the world." 

Wheel had almost bought a stuffed mermaid tail in Tyrohl. It was fake, but he hadn't known it at the time. Fucking merchants. 

The kid went to Hana, begging for story time. Wheel got up to leave, heading to the small tent he'd put up to sleep. It'd been a hell of a day, and the next one was right around the corner. The last thing he heard as he laid his head on the coil of rope that served as  a pillow was Hana's voice speaking slow and soft.

---

Wheel had gone to bed without a scene. Hana had begun to read to the lad, and Uban was piss drunk. "Well. No time like the present," he stood up, wiping his hands on his trousers, "I've already got rope and vinegar with me, so we don't need to make any stops. Come along, Uban." Pieter helped him up, and gently yet firmly guided Uban to the shore, into the darkness.