Anduin has been up on deck, enjoying the fresh ocean air and trying to do his best to help when needed, and stay out of the way when he wasn't. He isn't a sailor by any means of the word, it isn't as though the crew had let him assist on any of the voyages he had taken in such a fashion, but he is fairly strong. And a very capable healer, should any particularly nasty injuries arise.

It's easier to keep your sea legs if you've got your eye on the horizon as well. An old guard had once taught him that trick, and while he can't say that it works quite the same on airships (nor that he's exactly got the luxury of keeping his eye on the horizon when everybody always keeps insisting on stuffing him in the most secure space possible), he's grateful for the man's kindness those many moons ago.

He's doing exactly this as the shift changes -- trying to stay out of the way of the crew -- when a man nearly drops out of the sky right in front of him.

The mast. The crow's nest. He had seen him up there before but he hadn't expected -- well. He supposes in retrospect he'd have to come down sometime.

Anduin tries to calm the rapid beating of his heart as he plasters what he hopes is a convincing enough smile upon his face.

"You did seem to enjoy yourself up there," Anduin observes.