"HOO HOO HA HA HA!" Junkrat cried out as his arm spun around like a mad man, working the winch that raised and lowered the anchor with a insanely enthusiastic look in his eye.

Angela stood as far back as she could, her hands covering her ears as her eyes narrowed from the strain upon her head as she gigantic chains clamored and clanked loudly, bursting through the air and only heightening in echoes from the ship's interior. She tried her best to manage the boisterous noise, though she couldn't help but wish she was back in the comms. closet, where Hana's quietness was far more preferable to this madness.

Junkrat eyed her from behind the winching mechanism as he continued motoring his arm around in circles, "OI, SHIELA! YA WANNA TRY 'ER OUT?!"

Angela wore a troubled face as she realized she'd have to yell back if he was to hear her, "NO!"

"GO?!" Junkrat shouted with a confused look.

"NO!" Angela replied just as loudly, pulling her hands away to expose her brain to the endlessly maddening sounds, waving her hands back and forth in a 'no' sort of semaphore, "NO!"

Only slightly rebuffed, Junkrat merely grinned as he returned his attention to the wheel he was cranking, "YA MISSIN' OUT! THIS ONE'S A BEAUT TA WORK, YA KNOW?! HOO HOO HA H-!"

-BOOM-

Angela fell onto the wooden boards at her feet as a humongous weight crashed into the ship, almost as though the Splitstream had been rammed clear through by another, mightier vessel. Angela's eyes went wide at the thought, though Junkrat's laughter, for once, came with a sense of relief.

"WOO HOO! That'll wake ya up in the mornin!" he cried out happily, "Now I just gotta lock 'er in 'n then- HAMM'ND!"

His face shot toward the port side, Angela's eyes following quickly to a large stack of cannonballs collected near the wall. Her eyes squinted as she noticed a plastic ball, about the same size, falling down the pile, slamming into each cannonball it came across, a small object being flung around inside of its plastic frame. Angela watched in confusion as Junkrat rushed over toward the stack of cannonballs to catch the lone plastic one, leaving the wheel of the winch to suddenly spin around like a weather vein in a tornado, the humongous chains suddenly shooting through the ship as the anchor flew deeper into the ocean, having not been docked before Junkrat left his post.

Angela's hands flew back to her ears as the chains' rattling rang through to her brain, a massive -THUD- shooting out as the chain reached its end, the ship violently wobbling to its side, sending the pile of cannonballs hurtling toward the opposing side of the ship. Angela's eyes flew wide as she darted to her feet, throwing caution to the wind as she made a dash toward a tiny nook in the wall, crouching into the small indention as the cannonballs rolled violently into whatever sat in their way in the deepest reached of the ship.

Junkrat darted over atop the flying stones of ammunition, desperately tracking the plastic ball as he fell to his stomach, covering his head as a cannonball blew just overtop of him, reaching his hand out to grab the object he'd been seeking, pulling it close to his face as he peered inside at the tiny creature within, its fuzzy body merely laying flat on its head as it rolled around lazily.

"Hamm'nd! Hamm'nd! Speak ta Jamie, c'mon!"

The tiny hamster finally spun onto its back, more to denote his being alive more than anything, his eyes rolling around in its head as he tried to compose himself on the bottom of the plastic hamster ball. The sight gave Junkrat a melancholy smile as he pulled the ball against his face warmly, as if hugging the tiny creature, though he did it quick enough to send the hamster bounding around the plastic ball once again.

"Oh, buddy, ya still kickin'! I dunno what I would'a done if anythin' 'd happen'd to ya!" Junkrat muttered, almost at the point of tears, "'ere, lemme get ya some vittles 'n we'll get ya all right as-"

A door from the ceiling suddenly shot open, catching Angela's attention as she slowly made her way out of the nook, Lena's face popping down from the sunlit-bathed gap, "What in the sam-hell blazes is goin' on down here?!"

Junkrat's head bolted as though her words had shocked the back of his mind, turning to her as he lay there, offering her the plastic ball, "Don' worry! Hamm'nd's doin' fine! I saved 'im!"

"Again?!" Lena asked aloud, "Junkie, what have we told you about pets on this vessel?!"

"But Luci-"

"And don't give me the old 'but Lucio' thing; Bastion goes off and eats junk he finds. How many times have we found you feeding your things from our stores?!" Lena asked assertively, obviously having rehashed this conversation many times by now.

Junkrat's head fell as he muttered just loud enough for her to hear, "F-Fifteen…"

A sigh escaped from the open hatch as Lena shook her head, grumbling, "You know I hate having to do this. Look, just- That's the last one, okay? Don't let Cap'n find him, otherwise the safety officer will be on the hook. And for cripes sake, no more yanking the anchor all the way into the ship."

Junkrat's head popped back up, "But tha ship c'n take it! If ya account fer the-!"

"I don't want to hear it, Junkie," Lena grumbled, "Cap'n already said no; this is a trader vessel, we're not trying to go balls-to-the-wall and obliterate ourselves while trying to obliterate others. Just cut it out."

The third mate grumbled once again, shaking her head before noticing Angela, "Hey. He's not teaching you the names and not the functions, is he?"

"N-No," Angela replied, somewhat shaken from the exchange, pointing as she explained, "That's the cannonball 'rack'. Well, they're over there now, but… Uh, there's four cannons per side, from left to right, they're Lucille, Dingo, Charlie, uh, Angela, Croc, Helen, Arvo, and Taz-man. Let's see… There's the cooping area, where you build or break down barrels, and he's already shown me his boatswain duties."

Lena eyed her with satisfaction, nodding to her as she quietly marveled, "Well, I guess you did good overall, Junkie. Just, please, keep that bugger out of sight as well as the anchor- we don't need it yanked right into the bow."

She gave a quick sending off before leaning away and shutting the door, encasing the two in darkness as their eyes slowly began to adjust to the dim lighting once again. Angela, for all her inexperience, simply remained still, rather than trip on any of the cannonballs that littered the floor. She felt a sense of unease at the sudden trappings of darkness, but soon enough, her ears perked at the sound of sniffling coming from the direction she'd last seen Junkrat, her eyes squinting in an attempt to locate him through the darkness.

Another sniffle of the tearful kind forced her to speak up, "Hey, Junkrat… You okay?"

There wasn't a reply. She slid her feet along the floor, slowly, trying to navigate throughout the dark room as her vision gradually heightened, coming to a stop as she began to see through the darkness. Junkrat had moved to sit atop one of the loose cannonballs, hunched over the plastic ball which he held in his arms in a sort of hug, his body trembling just noticeably as he cried silently, shaking his head in reprehension. Angela felt her heart sink at the sight, and in the interest of respect, remained still, not wanting to bother him.

He reached into his pocket and slid out a notebook, pulling a pencil from a shirt pocket as he flipped through the paper, page after page, nearly until he made it to the end of the bound paper, finally scribbling something before closing and returning the notebook to his pocket. He then leaned closer to the plastic ball, pressing his face against its smooth face as he forced a smile from his tearful face.

"We're gonna get bettah, huh, Hamm'nd? One of these days, we won't do anythin' wrong, eh? We'll get there."

He tapped a thumb against the ball as though giving the hamster a high-five, "Now no more causin' trouble, ya hear?"

Junkrat nodded to himself before dropping the ball onto the ground, Hammond scurrying around in exploration as the plastic ball rolled to and fro along the floor. After watching his companion swirl around for a moment or two with a grin, Junkrat began the task of reloading the cannonballs back into their 'racks', which had always seemed like a pile to Angela, slowly carrying one ball after another from across the room, almost having forgotten he had even had a guest with him.

Her own head lowered in something of reverence, Angela walked toward the closest cannonball she could see, and after finding herself incapable of lifting it, merely rolled it along the wooden floor as it tumbled along its stone face.

"Ya don't hafta," Junkrat waves her off with a weak smile, "It's my mess, yeah."

Angela growled as she was in the throes of breathlessness at the hands of her activity, "No! I'm your apprentice at the moment, and your tasks are my tasks. I'm nothing if not willing to learn."

Junkrat cracked something of a smirk before continuing to squat his way along the floor with three cannonballs in hand, "Well, ifya tryin' ta learn so much, what, ya goin' to capt'in a ship yerself?"

"I dunno," Angela shrugged, making her way back for another ball, "I don't have nearly the leadership abilities to Captain anything, but I think I'd enjoy doing something in a crew. Maybe not anything as taxing as this, but hey, taking barrels apart was pretty fun."

She paused for a moment, before weakly continuing, "Besides, I'd love to be with my father. and it's not like he's going to relinquish his captaincy anytime soon."

"Why ya say that?" Junkrat wondered, "His Jair's say otherwise! Hehe!"

Angela smiled nostalgically, "This ship is the closest he'll ever be to mom. He'd never get up. I've already figured out, he went out and got the best crew, equipment- he wanted the Splitstream at its best so it could be a rolling tribute to his wife in the mightiest sea. I think he'd die before giving this ship up, even to me."

"Just what I think, anyway," Angela muttered with a smile, "He never was a writer, my father; the closest love letter he could write to my mother was this ship, so he wants it to be perfect."

"Wow, ya make it sound like a load'a more than just a hunk 'a wood that floats, ya know?!" Junkrat exclaimed, "Now that ya mention it, Cap was watchin' me at the Brawler's Den down in Melb'urne before recruitin' me. I guess ifya lookin' fer a killah cannoneer, that's be tha place!"

Angela stared at him with excited eyes, "You were in the Brawler's Den?!"

"Born 'n raised!" Junkrat answered proudly, "Cap was tha one, actually, who put up tha money ta get me outta tha Den! Now that ya mention, he musta really needed a cannoneer, huh? Just wait 'till ya see me in open combat! When the cannon's 're goin' and the gunpowd'r's chokin' ya? Talk about a rush!"

Crossing her arms, Angela replied nervously, "Uh, I apologize if I don't share in the same enthusiasm…"

Junkrat giggled at her words, "Heehee! Nobody does, sheila, but that why I'm 'ere, now ain't it? Heehee ha ha!"

He bounded back toward the rack as he juggled three cannonballs in his hands, his sense of enthusiastic glee becoming electric, nearly to the point of contagion, and Angela smiled at the sight. For such a dank place as this part of the ship was, it seemed to be home enough for this ratty man, at least home enough that he seemed elated to have a purpose here, no matter how meager.

Lucio crouched down until his eyes were just above the level of the counter, his eye brow raised in critique until his hands ever so slowly reached up and over the counter, holding a ruler just a hair's breadth away from the soufflé hat sat there, as if he were preparing it for some world-wide competition. A single eye lowered as he spun the ruler to the side, measuring the cake's height, sighing with relief as he rose to his feet, shoving the ruler back into the pocket of his raggedy chef's jacket that he hadn't even bothered to button up.

"Vwah-la!" he shouted happily, shooting his arms up into the air.

Either from the movement of wind from his arm's movements or his voice, the soufflé immediately began to deflate with something of a whispering cry as air whistles out from its flatted form. By the time Angela could blink, Lucio was buried in the corner of the mess quarters, hugging his knees against his knees as he silently cried to himself, only returning to the counter after Angela had blinked again.

"Welp, you can't win 'em all," Lucio concluded with a smile and a shrug, pushing the ramekin across toward Angela, "It's not all that pretty to look at, but it's still gotta taste amazing. I never, and I mean never, put out a product I'm not proud of. I can at least stand by the taste."

Angela picked up the ceramic bowl, grabbing a spoon as she eyed Lucio suspiciously, "This is supposed to make me cry, right?"

"If not this, I'll get ya at some point," he winked, crossing his arms and leaning back against the opposing counter with an expectant look on his face.

Angela took a small bite of the limp soufflé, her eyes rolling back into her head as her knees grew weak, her body lowering as she jumped to herself, the sweetness dancing on her tongue as she was strewn across some fluffy paradise, nearly becoming one with the dessert she'd taken into herself. She mused loudly behind closed lips, her appreciative humming causing Lucio to bow preemptively, ever the showman.

"Thank you, thank you; no long exposure photography please," he goaded happily.

"Dear lord that was delicious," Angela spoke, though her ultimate compliment was the grinding sound of silver of ceramic, her spoon hurriedly scraping against the bowl as she struggled to find any bite that remained in crumb form, "It was like… I don't even know. How did you get this good?!"

Lucio grinned, lowering his head to hide his embarrassment, "Well, my grandparents taught me a lot of it growing up; since then, I've just sort of dabbled. It wasn't until I came aboard the Splitstream that I truly began to expand my repertoire, if only because my wife expects the best meals whenever I'm home. I sort of screw my own self over; after you start making something elegant for breakfast, and they know you can make such things, you can't exactly go back to fried cake, can you?"

Grinning at such a story, Angela replied warmly, "That's sweet. Well, as a recipient of such culinary mastery, I hereby applaud you, and will continue to expect nothing but the best."

"Thank you," Lucio nodded happily with a smile, turning toward the sink that had collected a massive stack of dishware, "Well, I guess now comes the fun part."

Angela frowned at the sight, though she turned toward an empty barrel that sat in the corner, making her way over and ripping the lid off to find it empty. She pulled it over toward the sink and examined the quality of the dishes, none of it particularly fragile, and she began stacking it inside the barrel, much to Lucio's confusion.

"Hey now, we're not storing it to get it outta here," he frowned, "You can hide dust under a rug, but we need those to eat off of 'em."

Angela eyed him with a smirk, "We're not storing them. We're gonna stick them in here, take it up top, fill it with soapy water, then roll it around. All that slosh will clean this all right up!"

Lucio nodded with a critical look on his face, his eyes narrowed as he followed along, "Hmm… I like the way you thing Ang."

"Not bad for an novice cooper, huh?" she asked proudly, moving aside as Lucio took over collecting the dishes.

He wore a dark face, "Eh, if J was teaching you, I'm shocked your idea of cleaning dishes doesn't involve just blowin' them up so we just by new ones. Still, if this all works, it'll cut out an immense amount of time cleaning, and that's deserving of a hand o' doubloons in any case. I mean, just as long as they ain't mine."

"Not one to share too much, huh?" Angela teased.

Lucio grinned, "I'm happy to share, but you need something to share in the first place. The reason I deckhand at all is because most of my pay goes right back home to the family. I mean, granted, I make it fun, but still."

Angela smiled, "I think you mentioned there being pictures?"

"Hey, I only show 'em to the Captain- and to people who cry after my soufflés," he explained with a smirk, "You may be Captain's daughter, but you still don't fit into either category."

With a flair for the dramatic, Angela raised the back of her hand to her forehead, leaning back as she whined, "M-My, I do feel as though-… My soul has been shaken!"

She began to whimper sadly, though it only forced Lucio to wave her off, "Hey now, I don't want the rep of making Captain's daughter cry. I was gonna let you see anyway."

Angela composed herself with a mischievous sort of smile as Lucio happily brought out his wallet, pulling out a small collection of photographs and handing them over, "It cost an arm and a leg, but my wife insisted. Said I needed a reminder of who would whoop my ass if I showed up having gotten with some dock wench."

He laughed to himself, shoving a hand through his hair to scratch the back of his neck with nervous movement, "I just use 'em to see my family after months out here. This ship is my ticket to making sure my kids're taken care of throughout their lives, at least hopefully. Captain has been so very gracious; I can't help but work hard. There aren't many out there who people want to work and do well for. Your father's one of 'em."

Angela paused in thoughtful melancholy at the chef's words, Lucio suddenly lifted the barrel up into his chest, his dark arms bulging muscular, and started toward the stairway up toward the deck. Angela rushed to open the door as she went through the small stack of tiny photographs, smiling at the sight of Lucio's restless kids trying to scurry about as the film must have been developing over the course of a few minutes. His wife had an arm around their daughter to keep her still, the child's face waxing curiosity as she reached for something out of frame, while Lucio had managed to keep their son occupied with a feather duster, quite the out-of-place object indeed.

"They're beautiful," Angela commented as she followed Lucio's meager strides at the hands of the full barrel, his grin shining brightly at her words.

"They're the best I got," he spoke proudly, raising his head high, "I gotta do my best just to make sure I don't tarry behind, y'know?"

Before Angela could reply, a voice popped out from above them as they walked out onto the main deck, beneath the afternoon sun, a high-spirited, yet haughty, voice indeed, "You guys talkin' about me still? Yeah, I suppose I am the best, eh?!"

Lucio only cocked a grin as Angela's head shot up to find Lena hanging upside-down from one of the crossing ropes up toward the masts, smugly rubbing her knuckles along her sleeve as she mused in playful arrogance, "What'cha guys doing?"

"Well, we're cleaning dishes," Angela answered, helping Lucio ready the siphon hose that would bring ocean water up and into the barrel, watching the deckhand carefully as he tossed the hose over the side, much to Lena's curiosity.

While the third mate looked on, Lucio watched the siphon hose begin to suck the water up onto the deck, slowly collecting at the bottom of the dish-barrel, pouring some soap along to create the mixture he was looking for. Finished, and now waiting for the water to fill the container, he accepted the photographs back from Angela, who returned them gratefully.

"Don't worry about Lena," Lucio assured with a grin, shoving his wallet back into his pocket, "She's far more liable to allow her blood to rush to her head than her ego."

Angela heard a weak reply from above them, "…he's… right… ya'know…"

She smirked as Lena worked her way upright, sitting atop the ropes for a moment to collect herself as Lucio laughed, "I still remember the first meal I cooked for her. The Splitstream was two months off port when then came to my hometown- apparently, they were out of stores for weeks, living off rations after their last cook went down with scurvy; I guess he wasn't worth his salt, or vitamin C. So Cap spent hours scouring my city to find a replacement, stumbling upon me and my rickety shit wagon I had set up making street food. He brought me back to the ship, and before I had ever even agreed to tag along, here comes this British woman rushing at me with open arms, openly weeping, and diving into a hug because she hadn't a proper meal in forever."

Lena grumbled with a sickly voice as her blood continued to correct its flow, "Don't…remind me…"

"Heh heh," Lucio chuckled teasingly, "She was the only one who cried because of my cooking even though I hadn't even made her anything yet. I couldn't rightly say no after that. Cap promised me he'd offer me the best opportunity to become the best deckhand in the Pacific, and that he'd provide well for my family. Not once has that man let me down."

Angela's lips pulled in indecision, having heard much the same from the others among the crew. It tugged at her heart somewhat to know that, despite how much she considered him to be a good father, he had spent so much time leaving her at home without him while he was out in the world, doing for others what he could have been doing for her, rather than leaving her in the care of ruthless sitters for the better part of a decade. She realized it was selfish, but also couldn't help thinking she had every right to be, considering all the lost time the two of them had in between themselves.

Lucio dropped the lid atop the barrel before slamming the metal ring overtop of it to keep it shut, earning a suddenly critical glance from Angela, the ships newest cooper-in-training, leaving Lucio with a lackadaisical grin, "What?"

"That's, like, not at all how it's done you know," Angela smiled glibly with crossed arms, leaving Lucio to chuckle as he kicked the barrel over to its side.

He shrugged, "See? It works just fine!"

Angela eyed the perfectly sealed lid of the barrel with awe, confused at what had been the result, even as Lena began to speak up from above, still wrangled in rope, "Good luck ever proving him wrong, Ange. Lu is one lucky son of a gun; if he does something, anything, it'll usually just work out."

Left with more of the same astonished look, Angela only clocked on as Lucio kept an eye on the barrel as it rolled along the deck in time with the movement of the ship along the waves, the dishes inside rumbling against each other and the container as they rolled along, with Lucio quick to make a game out of it, rushing in horizontal lines along the ship to get in its way, leaving him to jump over the oblong projectile.

"I'll just hang a net over the edge of the deck and dump it there; it should catch everything," he explained as he vaulted over the barrel once again with a smile, "Thanks for the great idea, A!"

"N-No problem?" Angela asked, still curious as to the man's methods, her back falling as Lena dropped to the deck and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

The third mate grinned, "Yep. I keep telling him his luck better not run out at the wrong time, but hey, he gets by. We all do, somehow! Now, ya ready for some navigating? We got a sextant and, my favorite, the ol' chronometer that we need to teach ya, huh?!"

"I suppose," Angela muttered, Lucio yet to miss his footing along he deck.