“So… Does he like, have a personal vendetta against humanity or…?” Lana scrunches her nose up as she waves a hand towards the mystery man that Nico brought on board about a week ago now, “Cause I've tried talking to him a few times now and he isn't mean per day, but he definitely doesn't wanna talk to me… Or anyone, for that matter. And I'm a goddamn delight!”

Nico hums, leaning on the wheel as he watches Luca’s brown hair fly back across his forehead in the wind. The other man's tired eyes blink slowly in the sunlight, his gaze still hard and mean even when he's bored, “I think maybe he's just quiet.” Nico offers, “And mad. His stitches still haven't healed. I won't let him do anything until they do.”

“Yeah, you're best fucking talent is called nagging.” Lana drawls, knowing for a fact that the blond doesn't take injuries lightly, “Yer such a momma hen.” She says spitefully.

Nico hums again absentmindedly, eyes focused on Luca as he leans on the edge of the boat. He can't say that he's not intrigued by the other man. He's got one hell of a temper on him and he's sharp with his tongue which has just a bit of accent behind it- it sounds melodic when he lets it slip by accident, R’s rolling involuntarily. Nico found out quickly that he doesn't like to be touched and he's also realized that Luca wants nothing to do with socializing with the captain's crew. 

He's also noticed how quiet and reserved the other guy can be. He's seen how his eyes get far away late at night when he reading one of the books Nico offers him and he learned by accident how old he was when they were having a small and surprising conversation about birthdays the other night- Nico was excited for his twenty-sixth birthday and in the process of talking about it Luca revealed that he's only twenty-two.

“It's surprising how hostile he is considerin’…”

Nico’s brows furrow, eyes looking towards Lana in a confused fashion as he buries his chin into his arms, “Considering what?” He asks. 

Lana looks up at him, looking equally confused before she snorts, “He's an omega dummy, did you not see the brandin’ on his forearm?”

Nico blinks, “Oh… No, I didn't.” He looks back at Luca, drumming his fingers on the wheel. Maybe that's why Luca’s been wearing that ratty, old, long sleeved shirt in this hot heat. Branding omegas is such a dirty fucking thing- Nico shakes his head, pursing his lips. No, let's not think about that right now… Today’s supposed to be relaxing not angry, “Well, just cause he's an omega doesn't mean he's gonna be soft and docile Lana, look at my mum.”

“Yer mum’s different Nico.” Lana says in a soft tone.

Nico shrugs, “Just sayin’.” He mutters. 

“Do you want a change of clothes?”

Those blue eyes look up at him, “What?”

Nico taps his quill against the paper he was writing on before pointing the end of it towards the armoire on the other end of the room, “There's all kinds of clothes in there if you want a change of clothes…”

Luca frowns slightly, looking towards the wooden case before saying, “Why would I wanna change?”

Nico looks at the other man's raggedy clothes- despite the omega aggressively washing them with soap they're still stained pink and red, holes littering the shirt where the stab wounds had been inflicted. The pants are just worse for wear, and Nico isn't sure if he should feel bad for the pants or Luca- those trousers met their demise a long time ago.

The brunette glares at him as he looks up at his face instead of his clothes, Nico flinches, “Sorry, your clothes just seem-”

“Ragged.” The other boy supplies and Nico presses his lips together before nodding, “I know that.”

“Feel free to change then-”

“I'm not taking clothes from you.” Luca whispers, and Nico hears a lick of accent in there as the other man adjusts his scrappy shirt, eyes analyzing the damage that's been pointed out.

“Alright, suit yourself.” The captain mutters, flipping through papers.

He pretends not to notice how the smaller man stands out of the corner of his eye after several long seconds of silence. He smirks softly to himself as he writes across the paper, glancing up to see Luca digging through the armoire and holding up shirts. 

“Anything you like?”

Luca’s shoulders stiffen in the midnight green shirt that he's thrown over his shoulders, frowning as he glares at the older man, “Thought you weren't looking.”

“I wasn't.” Nico says honestly, and he wonders if Luca knows whether or not he's already seen him without a shirt on the night he got stabbed, “You can have anything in there.” He waves an absent-minded hand, “None of those fit me. And the ones that do, I rarely wear.”

Luca eyes the captain's bare shoulders, “Obviously.” He says sarcastically.

Nico smiles, leaning a cheek against his fist, “What can I say, I hate shirts.” He shrugs.