It was confusing, navigating the near darkness below deck, the cramped conditions only more so for someone of Handy's stature. He almost outright stepped on a pony's foreleg by mistake, the sailor sprawled out between what looked to be a cask of porter and a rack filled with onions. Eventually, he found his way to the store and, sure enough, it was packed. He already started hearing people move on the deck above him, so he hurried up, closing the door and fumbling in the darkness to try to remove the bulky and cumbersome armour, managing only his remaining gauntlet and pauldrons before saying fuck it and putting a huge stack of bags filled with grain between him and the door. He found an open box on the ground and stared at it.