Volger was scheming again. There was no mistaking it. At first, Alek had seen no harm in the suggestion that he take over Dylan's fencing lessons, but when he had asked why, the Wildcount had proceeded to evade the subject quite masterfully, and he'd been beating around the bush for a good half hour or so now. The only reason, Alek was sure, was that he was hiding some ulterior motive that would raise its ugly head later on.

"I just don't understand why you can't continue with it yourself," Alek reiterated for what felt like the hundredth time. "It isn't that I'm opposed to it, but if you want me to, then don't I have the right to know why?" Really, he was actually beginning to look forward to the sessions on the spine, the rare moments in which he got to tease Dylan, and not the other way around, as per usual. But that didn't make him any less suspicious of Volger's intentions.

"I think it would make sense that, as practice, you attempt to teach someone else. Poor Mr. Sharp will come out with a botched education, unfortunately, but it seems a reasonable price for your own," Volger explained. Alek sighed loudly in exasperation and moved to a table, shooing a messenger lizard off the chair before he sat in it. They were in the wildcount's room; Alek had been permitted a short visit when he had asked, probably as a token of goodwill for having given himself up. Much of the crew still seemed to regard them as enemies, but the captain was friendly enough. And Dylan. Alek's irritated scowl lightened a bit when he thought of the midshipman, his only true friend aboard the Leviathan. They had been through so much together that he was beginning to feel as if they were brothers.

Finally Alek gave in and responded, "That hardly seems fair to Dylan, Volger. But I suppose I would do an alright job of it, even if you think otherwise. It certainly feels good to be better than him at something."

"Mr. Sharp," came a snide voice from under the table. Alek raised an eyebrow, amused, and descended beneath the table. A moment later he reappeared with Bovril on his shoulder. The loris had been chattering with the messenger lizard, which had happened to repeat a small fragment of conversation between Dr. Barlow and the captain. Obviously the messenger lizard, with its tedious repetition, had not proven very exciting, but then again, Bovril was perspicacious.

Count Volger gave the loris a revolted look, the same look one might bestow upon a particularly large roach that had scuttled under their shoe. It seemed that Alek was still the only one who had gotten used to the Darwinist creatures. "Yes, I'm sure. And you have little to do in your room anyways. You insisted on making friends with Mr. Sharp, so you might as well make use of it now."

Whenever he and Volger came to a conclusion, Alek always felt as if he was losing an argument, and it got on his nerves. "Yes, yes, I'll do that. I might as well do it now, if we've nothing more to discuss, and anyways, I know you hate talking when the messenger lizards are around." With a barely concealed smirk, Alek turned and left. He had his moments. He opened and closed the door behind him, then set off towards his room, which wasn't far from Volger's. Technically they were confined to them, but allowances were made often. At the moment one of the Leviathan's men was following Alek, serving as some sort of guard, but he was only there to make sure he didn't get into trouble. Other than that, Alek suspected he could probably wander the ship as he pleased.

Often, now that he wasn't taking such an active part in the activities about the Leviathan, Alek had taken to exploring it. He had been many places now, but it always seemed there were more to discover. At the moment he was close to the bridge, and heading towards the messenger lizards' room. When he passed that, he would be close to his own.

Alek was just about to turn a corner when he heard familiar voices in casual conversation. "...I swear, the Huxleys are getting bolder every day. I'll bet they're getting a little cracked in the attic, just like the ship."

"I do suppose it's true that they've been less nervous lately. D'you remember picking up the crew from the Esperance? The storm was blowing us about this way and that, but they barely seemed to notice!"

Grinning, Alek rounded the bend and declared cheerfully, "Hello, Mr. Sharp, Mr. Newkirk."

"Oh, hello, Alek!" Dylan said cheerfully. Newkirk glanced between the two for a moment then waved a farewell. "I'm going to take this opportunity to go have a nap. See you later." He seemed to have guessed they would probably stop to talk. Dylan waved as well, then turned his attention to Alek. Once Newkirk was out of earshot, he grinned. "So how is his princeliness this fine morning?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Alek chuckled. "I heard about the Esperance, but I haven't managed to catch any details. What was that all about?"

"Oh, some barking ship went and crashed," Dylan explained. "A lot of the men died, but there were some left, and we managed to get them aboard the Leviathan. We could take them, since the egg crate isn't needed anymore, and... you know how things went, back in Istanbul. There are a few spots open." Alek nodded sympathetically. He knew Dylan was referring to his disastrous first mission, but perhaps it would be best to move away from the subject quickly.

He reasoned, "So there are a few new men aboard the Leviathan? Sounds interesting. Just as I was beginning to memorize faces, too!"

"Aye, that's the way things are destined to happen," Dylan responded with a cheeky grin. "Where were you coming from, anyways? I thought you weren't supposed to be wandering around the ship anymore."

"Oh, I was just talking with Volger," Alek muttered, waving a hand dismissively. "He thinks that I should start giving you fencing lessons again."

"Fencing?" Dylan asked, his eyes widening. "Um, no. I don't feel like learning it anymore. Won't need it anyways, you know? No real use for it on a hydrogen breather, and I'd probably just end up hurting myself. Besides, Count Volger said I was hopeless. I probably have better things to do with my time. Hey, did you hear about Tazza and the other loris? Apparently they're best friends now! Dr. Barlow says—"

Alek cried, raising his hands and stepping back, "Slow down! I barely understood a thing you just said! You would think I had just asked you to jump right off the ship or something, with the excuses you were making! Everyone starts out hopeless, anyways, especially in Volger's eyes. He still thinks I haven't a chance."

"Haven't a chance," Bovril echoed softly.

Dylan shifted his weight from foot to foot and avoided Alek's eyes. Alek realized that, for some remarkable reason, he was actually nervous. Such a rare occurrence for the cocky midshipman, and yet it had been brought on by the idea of more fencing lessons? Alek found himself quite bewildered. "Sorry, Alek," Dylan repeated. "I just don't want to do it anymore." And with that, he turned on his heel and began walking in the other direction, back towards his cabin.

"Wait!" Alek protested. He ran to catch up with Dylan and put a hand on his shoulder. The boy tensed, and Alek half-expected his hand to be swatted away. Instead he said softly, "Just leave me alone." Then he pulled away from Alek and continued down the hallway, his back straight, his footsteps unusually stiff. For some odd reason, Alek felt as if he had just been snubbed. Why did he take it personally that Dylan didn't feel like fencing anymore? It was a legitimate argument he had made, even if he had said it so quickly that Alek had barely been able to follow.

With a heavy feeling of remorse, Alek began heading towards his room again. He wondered if there was a single person in the world who could understand Dylan.