Jimmy woke early as usual, earlier then the soft, grey, waning light of the sun, earlier then the ship and it's taxing, bustling noises. The sun had not yet begun to creep it's way under his eye lids, though it seemed as though waking up before the dawn had been almost programmed into Jimmy's routine. Often aboard the S.S. Venture, when they hadn't taken on passengers at the last port to help with the deck hands, there was such an abundance of work to be done, that dragging yourself from the throws of sleep hours before the rest of the world was necessary to have even the most remote of chances to finish the days tasks.
But now, with a full ship and a more-then capable crew, Jimmy found that he was still waking long before he had to, his body already stealing itself for the early morning work it had grown accustomed to. Forcing himself from his cot in the belly of the ship and rubbing his eyes with a closed fist, Jimmy absently wondered if anyone would be in the kitchens at this hour. Slipping on a pair of shoes, tucking his book under his arm, and buckling the belt that he had left on while he slept, he heading through the door, up the creaking, groaning, wooden stairs, and up to the main deck.
A cool mist kissing his face as he stepped into the cold, overcast morning light, Jimmy forgot his hunger pains in a second as he looked out over the prow of the galley. The sun had not yet risen, but he could see the clouds lighting to a deluded smokey grey slowly from behind far to the east, a slightly paler colour then the sea, which was still dark and angry looking from last night's storm.
Making his way across the rain-slicked deck, Jimmy stretched as he walked, feeling the kinks in his back slowly working themselves loose, and smiling when he heard the audible crack from the base of his spine. Standing at the bottom of the climb to the top of the ship's crow's nest, Jimmy pushed his hair stubbornly off his forehead before beginning the ascent, hands a little shaky at first, but growing more sure with every pasting second.
The view from even halfway up the climb was astounding. He'd spent almost 3 years on the S.S. Venture now, and climbed on a regular basis up to the utmost top of the ship at least once a day, though the site still rendered him breathless. Stopping and clinging to the ropes as he looked out over the calming sea, Jimmy was positive that he had never felt more at ease then he did at this moment, watching the clouds light in the east as the ship rocked gently 50 feet beneath him.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been hanging there, watching the world around him slowly and subtly waking to the morning, but when he heard the door to the cabins bang open beneath him, he gave a start, clinging desperately to the ropes as he struggled to steadying himself.
When his breathing had returned to normal, and his hands were fisted safely around the knots in the rigging, Jimmy chanced a look down, following the figure making it's way to the prow of the ship with his dark, almost stormy blue eyes. He knew that walk, that way of holding ones self that spoke of confidence and humility, that smooth, dark hair ruffled playfully by the rapidly dying wind. Worrying his bottom lip through his teeth as he watched the other man just standing there, leaning on the front rail of the ship, Jimmy wondered briefly whether he would be getting in trouble again for spying on the unsuspecting, but that thought was quickly pushed from his mind as he began to wonder whether the man at the front of the boat's shirt would be dampened by the wood he was leaning on.
Jimmy watched attentively as the other man threw his arms wide, seeming to embrace the early morning sky, the wind picking up suddenly to tear relentlessly at his white dress shirt, causing the material the billow and snap, the unnatural sound carried to Jimmy's ears by the lamenting wind. He thought that maybe he heard the other man call something out, but he could not be quite sure, for the wind carried the cry off in another direction, hitting Jimmy's back and causing him to shiver, the damp, rough-spun fabric pressing itself uncomfortably to his skin.
Pulling himself the rest of the way and over the lip of the crow's nest, Jimmy collapsed at the bottom, tossing his book to the ground beside him, and nursing his sore hands. Sighing deeply as the sound of rich, whole laughter reached him, Jimmy shivered again and rubbed his arms brusquely to quell the goose bumps that threatened to spread over his body.
Jimmy knew it wasn't from the cold.