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Two Men in a Boat
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9th April, 1891 — Voyager, Portugal
The impromptu meeting with Greyback had left Konstanin feeling considerably more untethered than he would have liked when embarking on a mission such as this and transportation via portkey did not help. Needs must though: to apparate such a distance would have been an impossible task so the lurching, discombobulating sensation of the portkey it was and Kons was rather glad he had skipped breakfast as it negated the possibility of him seeing it again.

The base of rescue in Portugal was still fairly minimal as far as Kons could tell. If one wasn't looking for signs of an organised response he expected it would be impossible to see but after sending Cartwright to assess the situation with one group of what appeared to be Portuguese Ministry men loitering by the shoreline he spotted a familiar sight.

"Here we go," he muttered to himself as he apparated from the the shore to the Voyager with a sharp pop. "Darrow," he greeted curtly, stumbling* slightly as his legs adjusted to the new sensation of being on the water. "The Minister sent me to help."
[*I don't know how strong the current is or whether it would make Kons stumble but assume he loses some dignity either way :P]
[-] The following 2 users Like Konstantin Fisk's post:
   Amelia Evans, J. Alfred Darrow


[Image: Bkpxf5.png]
fabulous moody set by MJ <3
#2
  
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They were in sight of the coast of Portugal for the moment but Alfred had no intention of staying there. He understood the Ministry's desire to have a base of operations on the ground, and could understand that some of the people who'd sailed down to the wreck with him were better off ashore, but he would have much rather been out at the site of the wreck by now than ferrying around people who had nothing to do with it. He'd made the difficult decision to request a replacement small boat be launched from the shore, so that he wouldn't have to wait for his own to return before getting back to it. What they might lose in familiarity with the way the small boat handled they'd make up for in the hour they'd save by leaving sooner, he thought, and they could get their own boat back tomorrow when the Voyager was meant to return with survivors.

The noise of apparition made him start. It was unexpected, being that they were out to sea, and Alfred hadn't given anyone permission to apparate onboard — and since this was his ship and he was heading the rescue efforts, he got to determine exactly who was onboard. For half a second he thought Zelda might have somehow found a way to catch up with them, ridiculous as that notion was, but — it was her brother, as it turned out, which seemed almost as unlikely. Konstantin had the distinction of being Alfred's least favorite of all Zelda's brothers, less because of anything Alfred knew about him (which was overall very little) and more because he'd made it so abundantly clear that he hated Alfred.

"Oh. Well. Grand," Alfred said in response. His tone was forcibly neutral, but the pauses between each word implied he'd chosen them deliberately, despite how little they conveyed. What is it you're meant to help with if you don't even have your sea legs? he thought, having to turn away from Fisk to hide half a smile that had appeared on his face at the thought.

"Jeffries," he called to his bosun, "Find Mr. Fisk a bed, please." Alfred glanced back at Fisk and added, "In the officer's quarters, if we have it." That was probably appropriate, given that Fisk handily outranked anyone else who had boarded the Voyager that morning, and perhaps his future-brother-in-law would recognize it as a sign of good will (or, if he didn't now, perhaps he would when he got a glimpse of crew berthing, which housed twenty-five to a room instead of eight).

"And what exactly did the Minister send you to do?" Alfred asked, turning his full attention back to Fisk. And is it going to involve getting in my way? He was a little suspicious of Assistant Heads arriving late to the rescue efforts, and nevermind that it was Konstantin Fisk. Alfred knew what he was doing; he didn't need someone directing him about. He particularly didn't need someone directing him about who didn't appear to have ever been at sea before and who might not understand the first thing about shipwrecks.



MJ made the most Alfredy of sets<3
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Konstantin had not intended to actually spend the night on the boat but, he realised belatedly, he had no real idea how long it would take for the vessel to reach the wreckage. He had assumed this would be a quicky voyage but it seemed he had been mistaken and he would be obliged to spend more time with Darrow than he’d thought.

Which was not ideal of course, but probably his own fault so he couldn’t complain too much, especially when it seemed he was getting a better berth than most. He might have given the other man a momentary respite from his ire if it weren’t for the tone of his voice as he questioned Kons’ presence – the presumptuous arrogance was staggering – and Kons straightened his back, ice in his voice.

“To assess the situation and help where I am able.” He replied stiffly. “I appreciate I do not posses your expertise with a nautical vessel Mr Darrow but I am not entirely without skill and I have a list of passengers so no one gets left behind.”


[Image: Bkpxf5.png]
fabulous moody set by MJ <3
#4
  
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Alfred did not think he had done anything deserving of that tone, since his question had been a perfectly reasonable one. He'd been involved in preparing the ship to get underway, charting courses, and planning strategies for the past eighteen hours, at least. Fisk was showing up late, and if he wanted to be read in to everything that was going on, that would only mean wasting time that they could have been using on rescue efforts. If he tried to keep getting in the middle of things, it was only going to make Alfred's job more difficult, he was sure — not because Fisk was incompetent, but because he had no experience in this whatsoever.

"Captain Darrow, while you're aboard my ship, if you please," he corrected curtly. He thought about pointing out that he already had a passenger roster of his own, which had been sent from the Minister's office the previous evening, but to do so would have been needlessly antagonistic. If he restricted himself to only one petty comment he could still come out of this conversation feeling as though he'd been civil, Alfred thought. If he only had to choose one thing to pick bones about it would be that Fisk used the proper title — Fisk may not respect him, but for however long he was aboard the Voyager, he could at least pretend to.

"I did not mean to disparage your skills, Mr. Fisk," he continued, tone still clipped despite the olive branch in the words themselves. "Your assistance will, I'm sure, be invaluable." And if Fisk intended to offer direction instead of just assistance, he would do better to apparate back to Portugal and find himself another boat.



MJ made the most Alfredy of sets<3
#5
  
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Stony-faced Konstantin promised himself that the hell he didn’t even believe in would freeze over before he called the other man Captain. Courtesy was one thing but Kons had no time for what felt to him like needless affectation; nor was he especially inclined towards allotting time to petty insults.

“What exactly are we expecting to find?” Kons asked, stomach turning hellishly as he made his way to the edge of the vessel, ostensibly to look out to the horizon but mostly to take a few deep breaths in an attempt to assuage the nausea. How on earth did people stand this for months at a time? "At the site I mean. Have you seen such a thing before?"

Perhaps it was just that Darrow was a poor sailor, he mused with a dry laugh to himself. It would not come as a shock to learn the man was significantly below the proper standard of a captain.


[Image: Bkpxf5.png]
fabulous moody set by MJ <3
#6
  
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Alfred watched Fisk walk to the edge of the deck incredulously. Had he really just asked Alfred, who had famously been declared lost at sea for years before his eventual return to England, if he had ever seen a shipwreck before? Possibly he was asking if he had ever assisted at a shipwreck, seeing one from the outside instead of experiencing it. That was a more charitable way to interpret the question, and Alfred decided he'd assume that was what Fisk meant, because fighting with him wouldn't do either of them any favors. Alfred had more important things to focus on, in the middle of a rescue effort, than a verbal wrestling match with his (hopefully) future-brother-in-law. So while he thought a lot of dead bodies, probably, since I had to go to Portugal to serve as a ferry for Ministry dolts instead of starting rescue efforts, he didn't say it.

"If we're lucky we'll find the wreckage," he said instead, moving a few steps in the direction Fisk had. The officer of the watch caught his eye from the deck above them and Alfred made a gesture with his hand, signalling to get them underway. A shout went up from the deck and sailors began to unfurl sails and haul in lines, setting the ship in motion once again. Alfred leaned lazily against the nearest bulkhead and watched Fisk with mild amusement — it was obvious he was seasick, and would probably only get worse once they were properly moving.

"If whatever happened wasn't enough to break the whole ship up, that means the survivors will be more concentrated and easier to find. If the ship itself is gone it'll be harder to find the center point to start the search from," he explained. He watched Fisk for a second, then added with barely concealed mirth, "Ask the cook for a bit of ginger to chew on. It'll help settle your stomach."



MJ made the most Alfredy of sets<3


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