𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙢𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙩-𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙖𝙨 || ʲ. ʰᵒˡˡᵃⁿᵈ

_four_

          How do you cure a hangover? Ask any hunter this, and they would say, without a shadow of a doubt, 'death, preferably'.
         
          Celebrations and drinking went late into the night even after countless cases of many getting absolutely sick, the ship bathed in the smell of seawater and the overabundance of alcohol.
         
          And even as the sun rose and the next day began, not a lot of hunters left their quarters. And among these hunters, was one Jacob Holland.
         
          He groaned as he turns once again in bed, having been stuck in it wide awake since the first rays of sunlight poured in through his own small window. It was like what, eight, now? Gods, this was the most he's ever slept in.
         
          His whole body felt dry and his head was pounding like a bitch, underestimating whatever crate they opened up for the games he made the mistake of joining. He regretted not just staying down with Mr. Crisp and drinking what he already had, his own cockiness and desperation to get wasted being met with exactly that; getting wasted. Swim too close to the beast, you get eaten.
         
          . . .
         
          Jacob groans again as he runs both hands down his face, blurry remnants of a dream he doesn't recall adding to his already growing headache. Gods, was the alcohol that strong or was he growing weaker? He honestly couldn't bring himself to believe either.
         
          "Fucking hell." He mumbles to himself as he decides he's slacked off long enough, the world spinning around him as he struggled to get himself properly sat. The ship's light swaying was making him more sick than it had any right doing, the pain in his head tripling when he momentarily saw double. He had to close his eyes for a moment to regain himself.

          Jacob was currently stuck in an ironic nightmare where any form of movement was enough to make him want to hurl,
         
          and here he was living on a ship.
         
          . . .
         
          Gods above, if they encountered a beast today he was sure that he might actually die.
         
          He exits his room and stares at your closed door, contemplating whether or not he should knock on it. He didn't have any reason to, nor did he have anything he wanted to tell you. It was just. . .an urge. A thought at the back of his head fighting to push its way to the front where it hopes he'll do it.
         
          . . .
         
          Then again, no matter how better of a tolerance you had to do this than Jacob and were probably faring, you know, better than he was, he knew that if he ever disturbed your sleep over nothing he'd be getting more than just another headache. He'll be seeing you soon enough anyway, what was the rush?
         
          . . .
         
          . . .
         
          . . .
         
          That would mean admitting to wanting to see you in the first place though. Fuck!
         
          Sarah's words from last night begin to play in his head again, but thankfully the real one was quick to stop it as she emerges from the captain's cabin. She looked surprise. "Jacob. Didn't expect you to be up so early."
         
          "Good morning to you too." He yawns as he feels the overwhelming burn of his eyelids, despite her calm demeanor and low voice, it still managed to make his brain hurt more. She only chuckles, standing next to him and overlooking the almost-empty main deck of the rest of the ship. "Sorry, good morning. Any reason why you aren't sleeping in?"
         
          "I still have chores to do." He mumbles, hand reaching to grip onto the wall for support as he squints at the overwhelmingly bright sun rising from directly in front of them. Dear gods, why did they have to be sailing east?!
         
          . . .
         
          "Wait east?" He parrots with his actual voice, turning to face Sarah who stared at the sun dead-on. This woman scares him more than he'd like to admit. "I thought we were going to be hunting for at least another one before we sailed back to Three Bridges?"
         
          "We're still doing that, don't worry," She reassures, hand settling on his back with a nod. "We got a message telling ships within the area to avoid sailing this course, one barely managing to live through an attack from a monster so frightening they failed to describe it." Jacob was in too much of a delirious state to fully understand how she found this particular situation humorous, her chuckle like a hammer repeatedly pounding at the sides of his head no matter how faint she made it. "But they seemed to have forgotten that we're the Inevitable."
         
          "Yes but we are also drunk." He tells her before he could really think about it, and if it was possible his head probably would've exploded when she laughs louder. "No worries, captain Crow took that into account, and we won't be there until a few days at most. We've all got plenty time to sober up properly." She pats his shoulder and goes to join the rest of the few hunters who were up and about, Jacob left dumbfounded at the same spot not really knowing if he wanted to follow.
         
          "Go to sleep, Jacob. You're more than welcome to." She reassures one last time as she calls over her shoulder, before she turns and heads down the steps to the bottom of the ship.
         
          . . .
         
          "Right." He turns again as an attempt to avoid having to look at the sun any longer than he had to, gaze pausing as he found himself staring at your door again. The curved metal handle of some caricature of the Red Bluster looked so inviting to just pull open and enter, the urge to just see you for some gods-awful reason making him fight back an annoyed groaned.
         
          . . .
         
          He turns and opens his door instead, the very same carvings of the handle cold in his touch as he goes to re-enter his room. Dammit, he was never going to be moving past this, was he?