12
The gusts of wind and the waves confronted each others, agreeing, finally, to toss and shake the boat mercilessly, covering everything with a frothy spray. Napoleon was at the helm, steering towards the harbor. His partner proved himself to be a skillful seaman and the dark haired man knew for sure they would make it.
He loves that... Illya Kuryakin pulled on the rope and tried to wipe the salted water away. His friend tightened and relaxed his grip on the helm, deftly, obviously concentrated and... excited. Thrilled. The boat responded well and Napoleon was in his element. Happy. Free.
13
The rain was still drumming on the windows but a rustling caught Napoleon's attention. Illya stood next to him, wrapped in a bathrobe, toweling off his hair. He pursed his lips and hissed, "We'll have a sunny day, warm with some gentle breeze and a very calm sea."
Napoleon raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. "I'm sorry, partner mine..."
The boat was safely docked and they had raced towards the inn. The innkeeper had thrown up her hands, pushing them in a bedroom – "I've only one left, boys, but it's a twin room!" - and promising a warm fish soup.