It was quiet in the cave, the only sounds were from the waves that softly lapped against the side of the ship, and the distant snore of the crew. It had been quite a celebration; the dwarves were almost out of beer by the end of the night. A couple of them had fallen asleep hugging the remaining barrels, as they tried to guard them against the thirsty sailors. She made her way across the deck, where a group of drunken sailors had passed out cold. She took great care not to awaken them, but one stirred as she walked past.  He gave her a groggy look. “Locke!” He raised a hand and grabbed at a nearby mug, he barely got hold of it before his head hit the deck again and snoring resumed.

She shook her head and made her way towards the captain’s quarters. Footsteps could be heard through the door, he was moving around in there, not asleep yet. She rapped her knuckles against the dry wood of the door. Moments passed, then with a pained creak the door opened.

“You’re back – and alive.” He said, taking great care not to let his voice betray any emotions one way or another.
“Yeah… I’m alive.”
A minute passed by as they stared at one another, neither of them letting down their guard. He broke the silence:
“The hell you do to my shirt?” He leaned a hand on the doorsill.
“I had a few incidents, tried to keep it in one piece but the ah- devils… didn’t agree. I patched it up best I could, wanted to return it.
He eyed the stitches and gave a grunt in reply, which quickly turned into a dry cough as she slowly pulled off the shirt and tossed it to him.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” She turned around and walked away.