He gazes out across the docks, his lined, weather-beaten features that look like they’re covered in a crust of salt, cracking as he frowns. Those eyes, sharp enough to cut, have glimpsed sights few men on this Earth could claim to have seen. Out there on the farthest reaches of the ocean where no land is in sight for months, the world is a different place. You can never say what will come next, and the sea is never still. And you can’t be, either, or you’ll be swept off your feet, along with the other flotsam as your ship sinks to the sea floor. Ask him, he’ll tell you as much.