It's about a month and a half before The Rogue pulls into her first port since the one where they'd taken on Harry, and this newest sailor is buzzing with excitement. "So we're just allowed to leave and do whatever we want?" he asks Louis as they approach land. He's on the chair by Louis' desk with his knees pulled up watching Louis work, removing the peel from an orange and chomping down happily.
Louis' only spending about half of his attention on the supplies report he's meant to be reviewing, because mostly he just wants to pay attention to Harry's excited chatter. He's been in an exceptional mood all week, delighted by the haul of fresh fruit they got from a small private ship way out to sea. Most of the men had to be forced to eat fruit so they wouldn't become ill, but not Harry. He had apparently lived off of an all-fruit diet in the palace and this was a taste of home.
"I'm not your mum," Louis answers with a slight smile, pulling off the spectacles he sometimes has to wear when he wants to do paperwork. "I'm just your boss. This is the crew's time to cut loose. They need to blow off steam so they're not at each other's throats the rest of the time."
"What about you? Do you cut loose?"
"Not in a very long while." There's only slight bitterness in Louis' tone as he watches Harry lick orange juices off of his bottom lip and feels his cock twitch in response. Too long.
Harry grins like he knows exactly where Louis' mind has gone, which maybe he does. "That can't be healthy. You should come out with us tonight."
"'Us?' Does that mean you're going out?" Louis redirects smoothly. "What are your grand plans?"
"I think... I want to go dancing."
Louis' eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "I didn't take you for the dancing type."
"Oh I love it," Harry replies at once. "A whole room full of people getting lost in music, bodies working, all the sweat and the energy... it's addictive."
And naturally that's the exact image forming in Louis' mind, of Harry lost in a crush of people and dead to everything except the movements of his body. It makes him feel a little uncomfortable, if he allows himself to be honest. "Just be careful out there, yes?"
"What do you mean?"
"This port, it's- well, let's just say it's a port where I'm welcomed as a celebrity," Louis answers carefully. "It's a rough town. Lots of criminals, lots of miscreants. I don't have to put up a false flag when we sail in because here, he who steals most gets bought the most drinks."
There's no change in Harry's puzzled expression, but he tries to understand anyways. "You mean that I should be careful of my purse?"
"I mean that you should be careful of your self. Look, I don't want to scare you," Louis continues with a heavy sigh, "I just want you to be aware. There are bad people out there in the world that might want to hurt you, and you should watch out for that."
Harry blinks up at him in a surprised sort of fondness. "Alright, of course. I'll be careful."
"Will you- will you do something for me?" Louis asks hesitantly, rising from his chair and moving to a trunk by the foot of his bed. He doesn't wait for a response, just opens it up and rummages around until he finds what he's looking for.
It's a miniature of The Rogue's flag, black with white lines in the shape of a stag just like the one on Louis' own right bicep. Between the antlers is the compass that graces the crook of Louis' arm and at the bottom of the flag is the knotted rope that winds around his wrist. People often ask him which came first, the tattoos or the flag, but Louis always gives the same answer: there is no Captain Louis Tomlinson without his lady Rogue.
