Author's Note: Another drabble request from lj, so I thought I'd share it with you. Not really much else to say, so… enjoy (hopefully).
As he traversed the halls on his mighty Nautilus, his mind – as ever, naturally, for such a notoriously pensive man such as himself – wandered. He acknowledged his crew left and right, and they bowed to him, causing him to swell with pride at their treatment of him. He had handpicked his crew himself, the best and most loyal men he could find, and they had never disappointed him yet.
It was as he was nearing the bridge of his Lady that he heard it, the booming crack like thunder, and paused for a moment, looking up towards the bulkhead as though it would provide him with an answer to the conundrum… before he realised what the sound was for himself, wondering why it had taken him even that short moment to puzzle it out. Agent Tom Sawyer was practising his marksmanship… as always.
Captain Nemo entered the bridge of his greatest invention, and glanced around, seeing that – as he had expected – everything was in perfect order. This being the case, he allowed himself to sink back into his musings, ever aware, but noticeably thoughtful nevertheless. His thoughts strayed onto the subject of the American himself, and Nemo realised he had never really pondered this topic in full before.
He recalled how Sawyer had joined their League quite of his own accord, and had risked life and limb to do his part for the mission. Nemo had to admire him for that… but the young man could be irresponsible and rash at times, hasty and overly-optimistic. But that was not to say that Captain Nemo did not like Agent Sawyer. The American was intelligent beyond his years, with a cunning and awareness becoming a strategist. Then again, Nemo supposed the young man was part of America's defences for a reason. He had to have some value, did he not?
Moving to the fore of the bridge to look out of the window to the vast oceans all around, Nemo took in a deep breath. It was public knowledge – even amongst the League – that Nemo hated… no, despised the British, and all their tyrannical qualities. Regardless of this, he had three citizens of this nation aboard his vessel as guests. He had never thought this possible, but they were growing to be more than acquaintances… was friend the right word? Why, one of his dearest friends had been from the same country. Ishmael was still strongly remembered and missed, even now.
But what of young Agent Sawyer? He was not British, true, but were Americans really so different? Were they really to be placed in their own category for differing contemplation, or were they guilty of the same crimes as their sister country across the Atlantic? After all, their language was – for the most part – the same, and they had the same cultures and religions and habits. Nemo did not really know what to make of this situation… but he had learned not long ago, that judging on first impressions was a terrible mistake. Everyone had blindly blamed Rodney Skinner for the treachery actually guilty of Dorian Gray. So it was that Nemo decided – along with the actual Englishmen, and woman, aboard – that he should not judge Agent Sawyer so swiftly. He was a brave young man, and had vowed to help this team, however he could. That had to count for something… and with Nemo, it certainly did.
Sighing lightly as he heard the equipment being shifted up above on the tower, he turned and headed out of the bridge, intending to have lunch prepared. It was nearing the hour, and Nemo had to admit, it was rather amusing to watch the men – other than himself, not that he was immune to her beauty – fall about themselves to impress Mina Harker, or gain her attentions. Agent Sawyer was guilty of this himself, and Nemo smiled as he remembered the few occasions when he had seen it in progress. He had to admit, it was actually rather valiant of the American to persist.
But, he supposed, that was in their nature.