The sudden sound of Genji’s eager voice forced Hanzo’s hand to pause.
The inked quill hovered over where he had stopped on his leather-bound notebook, and Hanzo sighed in contempt when a few drops of black ink fell haphazardly onto the paper.
Still, Hanzo turned from his confiscated desk and up towards the entrance of the quarterdeck, where a suntanned and sweating Genji stood, beaming at him.
Hanzo did not speak as he carefully set down his quill, giving Genji an inquisitive look.
“What is it, brother?” Hanzo calmly asked, despite his frustration from the sudden and unwanted distraction. Most times Genji knew better than to bother Hanzo while he wrote for their father.
Hanzo did not like to be disturbed during these peaceful times, considering how rare it was to have a moment of solitude in such a cramped space. “Does Captain Reynard require my presence?”
Genji answered him with a mirthful laugh before jumping down the steep steps with the ease and elegance of a feline. He stood there, still in his sweat drenched work clothes.
The plain laced tunic clung to Genji’s arms and torso; Hanzo could smell the sharp mixture of perspiration and ocean spray off of it.
Genji’s short hair had been pulled up from out of his eyes with a tied cloth, making his dark hair stick at unusual angles.
Genji’s large eyebrows were brushing the bottom of the ragged cloth, he was smiling so much.
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