[ It's inevitable that Mo Ran's loose grasp of respect for authority lands him in the brig. Even as he'd run his mouth off at the crew member he'd been talking to, he'd known he was going to get tossed into prison.

It hadn't stayed his tongue, of course. And really, the brig isn't too bad. There's the potential for some company and it's not like he'll starve— ]

What do you mean, no dinner? [ That news, delivered as the pirate shoves him into the brig, gets received with a welling of anger, annoyance flashing in his eyes before he manages to control his expression. ] I just cracked a joke, it doesn't mean I should starve.

[ With no response, or relaxing of the rules, he slumps down against the bars, feeling petulant, arms crossed over his chest, pouting. ] Some hospitality they're displaying.

[ His bad mood disappears fairly easily, however; within minutes, he's looking for a distraction, digging through the pockets of his new, black coat (a fine replacement for his robes) for a lock pick. Or, failing that, something to keep his hands busy. ]

Treasure? [ Despite the fact that he's a grown man, one who has responsibilities and has spent years working to be an upright citizen, Mo Ran still feels like a kid sometimes, and the idea of hunting for lost treasure appeals more than he cares to admit. ] Do we get to keep the loot?

[ After some bargaining and wheedling, Mo Ran has a... map? He thinks it's a map, some lines hastily scribbled down on a scrap of paper that he thinks are meant to lead him to some treasure. He studies it for a minute or two, trying to puzzle out the clues, then folds the paper and shoves it into his pocket. When he finally looks around, it's to ask a question that will hopefully lead him in the right direction: ] Have you seen two crossed trees?

[ During the day, Mo Ran throws the carps back into the sea. It seems kind to them, even if one of them warns him not to, and then reappears to bother him again. And again. And again. Eventually, he gives in, just to get the damn fish to stop talking to him. (And he throws it back into the sea.)

But the night is different. Nightmares are no stranger to Mo Ran, and most of the ones he has here are actually better than the usual. Still, the dreams of ships crashing and sinking, when mixed with memories of his past life, are unsettling enough to keep him awake, seeking out quiet corners on the crowded ships. A few nights find him clinging to the rails, watching the storms on the horizon. He's abnormally quiet, those nights, but he'll talk to anyone who approaches. ]