"Arthur? Are you in here?"
Antonio knocked on the door to François' room a few times, then hesitantly pushed it open. Arthur sat on the bed, his expression blank.
"François wanted me to check on you. Are you alright?"
Antonio sat next to Arthur on the bed, his strong arm around the others shoulder in comfort.
"If you feel well enough to go to the kitchen, Ludwig has some tea ready for you. I'm almost certain he's baked you some pastries, as well. Ivan is in my quarters; the man's a wreck. He thinks you're dead, so you should probably go check on him as well."
Arthur looked at Antonio apprehensively, trying to decide if he were joking or not. Though, after a few seconds, Arthur decided that Antonio was serious; he could leave.
The Englishman left François' quarters, immediately crossing the hallway to Antonio's. He opened the door slowly, looking at Ivan. He was awake, sitting on the bed; he was pale as a sheet, gripping the neck of a vodka bottle with knuckles so white that Arthur was amazed that it didn't shatter. Eventually, Ivan looked up, and met eyes with Arthur. The Russian's violet eyes flew open as he stood, the vodka bottle still in a death-grip. Slowly, Ivan edged forwards, holding a hand out to touch Arthur's shoulder, as if he didn't believe that he was there.
"I," he began, "I heard a gunshot."
"Yeah, well," Arthur shrugged with a tiny smile, pushing the bandage away from his wound.
"I didn't get off easy."
Ivan's sweet eyes widened in shock as he stumbled forward, tracing a finger around the wound delicately.
"That looks... Very bad. Did François do that?"
"...Technically. He gave me wine."
"And you drank it? Not very smart."
"You're telling that to who, rummy?"
Ivan looked troubled for a moment, then gazed down at his feet. "Arthur, do you think we will be rescued?"
The Englishman looked taken aback for a moment, then, slowly, shook his head.
"They killed everyone else on that ship. Anyone that finds out about it will assume we're dead, too."
Ivan sighed softly.
"Was afraid you would say that. I hope I get a nice memorial."
Arthur bit his lip, seeing how depressed Ivan looked.
"Um, well, chin up, buddy. At least we have each other?"
Arthur pursed his lips when he heard Ivan let out a snort of laughter, blushing in embarrassment.
"Y-You know what I meant!"
Ivan chuckled, then closed the space between the both of them, putting a firm hand on Arthur's shoulder.
"Well," Ivan began, smiling warmly, "I'm glad we have each other."
Arthur's eyes widened and he straightened up.
"A-Ah! I'm glad too! I mean- to have your company, I'm glad for that."
He covered his mouth and blushed darker, earning another chuckle from Ivan. Averting his eyes, Arthur tried to change the subject.
"Erm... Antonio told me to go to the kitchen for tea. Would you like to come with me?"
Ivan laughed, then said, pointing to Arthur's ear, "I'm afraid if I don't you'll shoot the other one off."
François stood in his cabin across from Antonio, looking worried.
"Did he look okay? He didn't get shock, did he?"
"You're worrying yourself too much about it, hermano. He was fine; I sent him to get tea from Ludwig. That'll help the shock, but I'm sure it's not permanent. Cheer up."
François bit the thumb of his glove nervously.
"I can't. He- he was so upset. I shouldn't have given him wine..."
"You didn't know, François. Anyway, he's fine now. He's probably with Ivan."
Antonio saw François' jaw clench, and smothered his snort of amusement with a cough.
'Ivan,' François thought with a scowl.
"I should have killed him. I only wanted Arthur."
"Well," Antonio reasoned, "if you kill Ivan, Arthur won't trust you. He'd hate you."
"Casse-toi! He already hates me. Mon dieu... What do I do, Antonio..?"
"Is the tea good?"
Ivan smiled, giving Arthur a thumbs up as he drank the tea.
"It's sweet. I like it."
It turned out Ludwig was one of the blonds that had restrained Ivan. He'd apologized to the Russian, then offered them both tea and pastries. They passed up on eating, both because of being scared of becoming seasick, and having lost their appetites from the ear incident. Arthur took another sip of his tea.
"Reminds me of home."
He looked skywards, smiling. "It'd be about tea time by now."
Ivan looked to him, then said softly, "do you miss home?"
"Yes. Do you?"
"...Not really. I didn't-... Well, you're my first friend."
Arthur remained quiet after that. They sat, drinking tea, for a while, before they were interrupted by someone coming out of the kitchen. It was a man, in maybe his early twenties, with white hair, incredibly pale skin and red eyes. He pursed his lips as he looked at the two men, then began to speak in extremely broken French. Arthur shook his head, quickly saying, "no, no, we both can speak English."
The man's eyes lit up, and he sighed in relief.
"Thank Gott. You don't know what it's like being surrounded by these frenchies all the time, man! So let me get right down to business; Franny wants you both off your asses and down to work. He doesn't want idle hands, verstehst du?"
There was no response, other than Arthur whispering "Franny?" to himself under his breath.
"So get to it!" The man yelled, clapping his hands together loudly.