When Silver first awoke after the events at Charlestown, it had taken him several minutes to realize just where he was. It wasnt as if this was his first time in the captains cabin. Not in the least. Flint had fucked him on top of the desk, bent over it, and against the bookshelf numerous times. But seeing the cabin from the low angle granted by the window seat was unfamiliar and had taken him longer to recognize. Especially since he had anticipated waking to the dimly lit room below deck, were he so unfortunate as to actually wake up at all.
Alas, he had. But instead of low-burning lanterns and the stench of blood and wretch, he had instead been greeted with warm sunlight and the breeze of fresh air from the opened window.
However, it took several days, or so he was told, before he was able to remain conscious for longer than just a few minutes or even an hour. Whether due to the shock his body felt from the loss of a limb, the sheer blood loss, or the fever that had burned him from infection. To Silver the exact cause didn’t much matter. He was still weak, exhausted, and in a sourely mood. The only potential upside was that Flint had more or less granted him use of his cabin while he made his recovery. For this, Silver was truly grateful. Flint could have easily made him take his recovery below decks just as any of the other men would. Instead he was permitted to not only lounge around the captain’s cabin during the day, but the window seat had been transformed into quite the comfortable bed for when he chose to retire at night. At least when compared to the swinging hammock.
Silver was grateful. Truly, he was. There was only one small problem: Flint snored.