Xan was spitting mad. There was no reason a mouthy little puck should have raised his ire and made his blood boil so easily but that phrase. That damned phrase would haunt him at every turn. He couldn’t stand it. Finn’s smart mouth was going to be the death of one of them.

He stomped around on deck. He’d forgotten to grab a coat when he’d stormed out of the cabin but was too proud to go stomping back in to get it. He was too old to be acting so childish, but Xan was in a mood to be stubborn. Besides he’d grown up in Denmark, a little cold like this was nothing compared to the winters back home. He still longed for golden beaches and warm waters, but he could grit his teeth and bear it.

The other men on the ship were a different story. They seemed to be struggling with the cold temperatures. Most of them were unaccustomed at this point and furthermore unprepared. The trip this far north had been a half-baked, hairbrained, last minute decision from their illustrious captain.

The cold only seemed to fuel Xan’s anger. It was like the weather was out to spite him as well. Every good intention he had was going to be thrust back into his face and all he really wanted was warm sand and clear water, but here he was. His behavior was irrational, it was petty, but it was seven-thirty in the morning, and he was already sick of this ridiculous day. He spent his morning giving gruff directions and gave no less than four raging tangents to four equally bewildered crewman.

The crew was on edge around him. Word had spread quickly that the quartermaster had quite the bumblebee in his bonnet this morning and to steer clear at all costs. Thankfully and unbeknownst to him the crew had written it off to his deep aversion to being anywhere near the British empire.

By the time lunch rolled around the ship was well underway and the crew was hoping with each passing wave out to sea that their quartermaster would be pacified.

That was not the case.

Xan was the last to walk into the galley, having let the rest of the crew be fed first. He wanted as little interaction as possible right now. He stepped into the back of the line. The group of men in front of him quieted their chatter and stood ramrod straight not daring to look in his direction. They passed without incident.

Xan stepped up to get his plate from Blay when it was suddenly pulled backwards. Xan turned glaring eyes onto the assistant cook. While the other crewmen might cow to his stare the cooks had known him longer, better, and well… they controlled the food supply. They had nothing to fear.

“So, what’s this I hear about the quartermaster being a cranky little wanker today?” Blay was all smug grins and teasing lilt.

“Give me the plate Blay.” His words were ice. Sharp, cold, and thin.

“Won’t you be needing two of these anyway?”

Xan stayed silent. Honestly through his anger he’d forgotten he’d probably need to feed Finn. Even though he could throttle the little imp he didn’t want to starve him. He already looked at least halfway there.

“I’ll take it to him after I eat.”

“Trouble in paradise already?” Blay had one eyebrow arched haughtily nearly to his hairline. His smug grin just made Xan angrier and more primed for a fight.

Xan’s voice was low and cold. “If I were you, I’d can it today Cheshire cat.”

At that Blay’s other eyebrow shot up. No longer finding this a fun teasing game but more surprised and concerned at his friend’s unusual mood.

Dimitri steps in and fixes himself and Blay a plate before herding them all to a secluded area in the back.

They grab a seat on some of the cargo boxes and start eating in silence.

After a while Dimitri decided to break it. “So, are you going to tell us what’s got you so twisted up this morning? You were fine at breakfast and then you came back trying to pick a fight with everyone.”

Blay butts in before Xan has a chance to reply. “It’s the kid isn’t it?”

Xan rolls his eyes and lets out an angry huff. He didn’t want to talk about it.

“You’re being stubborn.”

Damn Dimitri and his unnervingly soothing attitude. He always had to be the goody two shoes peacemaker. If anyone else had said that to Xan right now it would have just made everything worse. He’d never been particularly hot tempered, so it was usually rough when he did get heated. Dimitri was always a voice of reason and always had a special way of making him feel foolish.

Xan explained to them what had happened that morning. The good thing about Dimitri was that while he made Xan feel childish at the beginning, he was kind and patient while working through his conflict. Blay on the other hand could not be so trusted but today he kept his teasing to himself. His two friends nodded along seeming to understand. They’d been with him for so long they understood him better than anyone.

Dimitri, always the man of wisdom, “Whatever you decide to tell him, or not, you’ve got to go talk to the kid. You can’t leave him hanging like that. He’ll think you’re going to get even. He’ll be on edge waiting, wondering. Unless you just want to keep him in fear all the time, you’re going to have to clear the air a little.”

Xan let out an exhausted sigh. He slumped over and rested his elbows on his knees and ran a hand over his face.

“You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.”

Xan looked up at him from his slumped position, shooting him an exasperated look before pushing himself upright.

“I guess I need to take him some food before I get back to work. Think I can bum one more plate out of the kitchen?”

Blay gave an over dramatic sigh. “I guess we could do that. You sure are needy today.”

Dimitri lead the way back to the kitchen. As Xan and Blay both reached the doorway Xan reached over and shoved his shoulder sending Blay into the doorframe.

Blay sputtered indignantly along with some choice words and phrases just for Xan.

Dimitri called back to his assistant and quartermaster. “Come along children, enough horsing around.”

Xan and Blay shared an annoyed look between them, as if to say, really? They followed him anyway.