Garrison stepped forward, turning an ear to hear Nathaniel's plight. It sounded far more sad than his own reality---he hated his family and his family shared his disdain. When he started sailing, he started losing faith in any kind of god, disbelieving in an entity's existence, and that had driven a wedge further between them. But he didn't care. His father was the one that had started him on a ship and they might like to blame that man, but of course they didn't. They didn't because he still believed in a god, somehow. After seeing the universe, he still believed in a god. How stupid.

He moved forward, shaking his thoughts and Nathaniel's sleepy words away from his head and gathering him up. Nodding now and then to one of the men that passed, doing their job or just loitering about like louts, he took the young man to his quarters and situated him on the bed, opening the window nearby that was protected by a very thick glass. Studying the prone form for a moment, Garrison sat on the edge of the bed and brushed a finger over a stray bit of hair on his forehead. So cute. So... innocent, it seemed. He smiled a bit, taking a spare pillow and pushing it onto the cushion of one of his favored chairs, curling up as if he had no bones and closing his eyes. As usual, he quickly fell asleep.