Jim Hawkins had gone to bed, but his mind was racing. Earlier that day, during the incident with the supernova, Long John Silver had shielded Jim with that massive body of his. Speaking of which, Jim trembled slightly, at the memory of the feeling of that body being pressed against his own, slimmer frame. And then of course, there was the fact that Silver had even bothered to protect such a worthless, scrawny fellow as himself in the first place. Even after Jim had screwed up, the result (probably) leading to Mr Arrow falling to his death, Silver still believed in him. Jim had never experienced that particular emotion before in all of his young life. It was such a delicious feeling, he found himself craving it, desperately. Especially by Silver. God, it was too much. He needed some fresh air. Sitting up in his hammock (careful not to fall out), the boy stepped out and out of the crew's sleeping quarters and up, onto the deck.
Jim looked around and spotted...oh no. He was about to panick, because it was Silver, leaning against one side of the reiling. But then, Jim thought that he could just sneak to the other side without the cyborg noticing him. He really didn't have the guts to confront said cyborg right now.
During all this time onboard the R.L.S. Legacy, Jim had put to memory exactly what boards to avoid trampling on if he wanted to be as quiet as possible. He allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief as his hands touched the wood of the rail. He stood like that for a while, breathing in and out as slowly as he could. He finally found himself relaxing, when he felt a large and very warm hand on his shoulder. "Jimbo?" Jim didn't have to turn around to know who it was as his heart picked up speed. Silver. Of course it was Silver. Who else would it be? Scroop? He swallowed the insane giggle that suddenly wanted out of his throat. Scroop was dead! He took a little tumble overboard. He had witnessed it himself! Jim shook his head and tried to focus on the firm, heavy weight on his shoulder instead. "Silver?" he croaked. Damnit! He cleared his throat.
Silver peered down at Jim. It was dark, but he could still, although faintly, see the boy's outlines and facial features, when the lad turned around. "Are ye okay, lad?" Jim shoved his hands in his pocket, shrugging. "I can handle myself." Silver shook his head fondly. Their eyes finally met. Jim's heartbeat quickened as the cyborg's flesh hand made contact with his skin, stroking his cheek. Jim felt himself heat up. Silver never ceased to marvel at the softness of the pup's complexion whenever he accidentally (or purposefully) touched his skin. As those impossibly big eyes continued to stare back up at Silver, he found himself leaning down...down...but at the last moment, he turned abruptly, about to head back to his own quarters because what the hell was he doing?! The lad was a teenager for Flint's sake! John Silver didn't have much left regarding morals, but this, at least was going too far. Still, what was left of his heart leapt in his chest when he felt a delicate, but surprisingly strong hand wrap around his wrist (a difficult task since Silver was much bigger than Jim). Silver knew, and he knew that Jim knew, that Silver could easily wrench out of Jim's grasp. And yet, Silver chose not to. "Please." The word left Jim's mouth before he could stop it, no more than a whisper. Silver heard it though. He slowly turned around.