"Heh. Yeah, that's...not what I'm concerned with, love," he said, lowering his voice until it was barely above a whisper. "I almost broke on the spot, earlier. I'm hanging on by a thread as it is. I don't want to be the reason that happens again." He chuckled and grinned in spite of the danger of it. Then he had a thought of a very different nature. "You know. One thing I've never asked you at all: do you like signing better? I'm shit at it, obviously, but...do you want that? When we're alone?"

His reassurance made Theo beam, his eyes crinkling with joy. "You are my bastard man, yes. But," he paused and looked around towards the door and placed one boot flat on the floor to see if he could sense any vibrations of people moving.

"If it is not too torturous for you and it is just the two of us...I see no reason not to flirt. If you're that concerned can always practice your signing.~"

His chuckle became a hearty laugh, though when he spoke, it was still carefully quiet enough to stay between the two of them. "No, no. I wear that one as a badge of honor. I am a bastard, and proud of it. And I'm your bastard, and I like the sound of that. So don't stop calling me for what you see. Be a shame to never hear it out of your pretty mouth again."

Fletch grimaced after he'd said it. "Sorry," he added sheepishly. "It's hard not to be a relentless flirt around you now that I'm allowed. But I'll be good."

He shrugged, unbothered by Fletcher's apology. It had never been an issue for him. But his shoulders dropped some and he had the good grace to look embarrassed. 

"Sorry, that's not exactly a great term of endearment now is it. Don't really think that one through and how it would make you feel. I like seeing you talk. I like knowing your stories and imagining the things you've done or understanding the things you're passionate about or against. I just don't have as many stories. I don't think you're a bad or horrible person though...just for the record. Just a rogue and a smuggler who has stolen something very special to me of late," he added with a fond smile. 

Fletch hesitated and picked at the arm of the chair. He thought of the beauty he'd seen in that quiet moment — of Theo lounging and reading, oblivious to the world around him. Of Theo's kindness, his warmth, his stubbornness, his grief. The quiet intensity returned to his gaze: his unrealized longing to touch this man's soul. "I want to know you, too, love," he said. "For all my talk, I'm just shit at knowing what to ask. But if I have questions, I suppose I'll know to ask them, now."

He went quiet for a while after that, gazing into the fire and ruminating. He really hadn't been the best to Theo in that regard, had he? It probably looked at this point like all he wanted from the man was his body. He'd just never had to ask. People told him or they didn't. If they didn't, then it wasn't his business. But for Theo, he'd find things to ask, if only for the man to be seen.

"I feel like a right arse," Fletch chuckled at last. "Always talking, never asking. No wonder you think I'm a bastard."

"Not at all," he replied easily. "I'm just respect our promise not to pry. But, he was a major part of your life. It's natural to have stories to share."

He eased back in his chair to slouch and stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankle. "Speaking of that promise though. It's alright with me if you pry. I want you to know me."

Fletch chuckled at the thought of Theo roughing it. "That much I can do. Traveling, I mean. Got so bloody used to it." He tilted his head to the side just a little, considering whether or not to go on. "Would it bother you if I talked about him some?"

He listened intently, nodding along in understanding. "Aye, I've seen my father's ledgers back when I was still meant to be his heir. The supplies to support the journey there and back, the insurances for injuries, the routes and times of year that are best for each and what that means for cargo changeovers. None of that of course is something you can experience through paper but we've suffered damages enough time to squalls to imagine the true horrors."

Theo offered a small sympathetic smile and shook his head. "I know my books are just fantasy. They're a good escape but nowhere near reality I know, it's okay. Don't need to let me down gently on that one. As for sailing...it's your cage. I can't in good conscience place you back in it just to be free of mine...traveling could be fun though. Maybe one day..."

His face fell. He'd been harsh in making his point, and now there was something hanging between them yet again. "You couldn't have known," he said gently as Theo looked back from the fire to read him. "It's...cramped. Smelly, on account of the latrine pots and however many unwashed wankers you've got sailing with you. Always rats in the bilge, like a fact of life. The food's terrible on longer voyages, as I'm sure you can imagine. If you're lucky, like me, you're the captain's son and you get your own cabin. If not, you sleep in the hold with the other men. Which...isn't what your books would make it out to be, mind. There's no privacy and there's always some arsehole who's either sick or snoring or he's farting up a storm down there.

The rest of it's two things: hard work, and danger. When I say I don't want to start from the bottom again, what I mean is I probably can't at my age. It's back-breaking. There's always something to be doing. And if that something is climbing a mast during a storm, you're fucked no matter how strong you are. I seen a lot of men die senselessly. I seen more lose a leg or a finger to being thrown or crushed or falling from a height. And this was even on Dad's ship, where it was run like a damned machine meant to minimize losses to his business. The smugglers were ruthless."

He paused, gauging Theo's feelings on it all. His expression softened again as he took the man in. "To me, it was a cage, and I'll always look at it that way in some respect. To you, it might very well be freedom. So...come with me sometime. See it for yourself. Don't take the word of some old bastard and leave it at that."

Theo hummed softly. "Right." He felt like a fool. Of course his privileged self had hardly endured hardship in comparison to the other man. He was not the one covered in scars that spoke of horrors like Fletcher was. He kicked himself for being so naive and out of touch with things.

"Sorry," he muttered. "That was stupid you're right." Theo sighed and for several moments stared quietly into the fire. "What's it like living at sea?"