To talk of injury and war he gave a sentimental nod, quiet and polite. "I won't mind of course, it's hardly more boring than my late night writing." Luitwin's eyes lingered on the other before turning to the sea he was gazing at. He always thought it had it's own beauty, like god's blood. Rhythmic currents like a beating heart, and it was obvious that it was that omnipotent fate that cast Ardnt aboard. It served them as a mercy in trade, but it's wrath claimed many lives. For a moment he wondered what Ardnt even saw in it, unless he was just searching for something to stare into. At night it was inky and black and it was hard for him to admit it was beautiful outside it's more symbolic value. Anyone else might call him blasphemous or foolishly curious, but what did the godless find beauty in, and were they as simple and base pleasures as he could predict? It wouldn't be appropriate to ask, he decided, letting Ardnt continue and himself serving as merely an open ear.<br/><br/>Their parting that night was silent, Luitwin swimming in his own thoughts even through his seemingly calm and warm demeanor. By now the crew had settled down into their beds in the nearby rooms. He spent his last minutes setting aside his supplies and bringing in the chair and bucket, disappearing back into his little room to mull over the feel of coarse hair in his hand and the shape of their guest's face felt through a beard. It was... soothing, he found, despite having tended to men as such in the past much the same. Those he felt a damned, fleeting fancy for were never under his hands. His mind seemed to hit a barrier as he sat hunched over the desk in thought, pen in hand. After he managed to sterilize this day's account of routine and action in his writing he got some much needed sleep, eager to wash himself of the mounting sins.<br/><br/>Luitwin softly greeted Ardnt when he passed by the man the next morning in his wake. The hustle of the crew's early schedule left little time for sleeping in, but once they were out of their facilities the monk indulged in a short bath while the upstairs prepared and served breakfast. Letting himself breathe without his top robe he entered their little alcove of the ship soon after, clean, robe neat over his arm and a tin tray of meals in hand. He hung his robe over the nearby chair to set Ardnt's share of this morning's food by his bedside. The sudden question made him falter for a second, doubting he ever even considered his routine strange to outsiders. "... I suppose I do, mostly. I prefer to. But at the monastery we eat our meals in a hall, and no one speaks. Meals aren't a time for entertainment... though sometimes I take mine back to my room to write or study." He remininsced a little over his youth where these habits had yet to be introduced. "You wouldn't want me out here anyway, it's been so long I've likely forgotten how to talk between bites." Luitwin attempted to make a light joke of it, using that as an excuse to retreat to his lonesome and take comfort in the daily cycle that kept him distracted from petty desires for years.<br/><br/>He barely noticed the cabin boy uncomfortably dodging conversation with their foreign acquaintance as he gathered fresh dressing and tools, boiled til sterile. Ardnt's unusual accomodation set him at ease, free to prod as he liked now that their appetites were sated enough to rebandage fresh wounds. He set a hand on Ardnt's shoulder to have him sit up so he could properly wrap the stitches, his touch always lingering a little too long whether he knew to stop himself or not. "I wasn't given permission, exactly... at least not officially, no. I don't know much about the young man, but if it's not crass of me to say, I don't see few here taking time out of their day to day to make eye contact with you. Wouldn't be able to tell you why, I think..." He spoke softly as he patted down the cloth and made sure it was wound tight enough in the right places, his eyes having no trouble avoiding Ardnt's face. "But I wouldn't want to be offensive, you are  a stranger, unfamiliar at that. I can't lie about where you've come from or how you got here... So I can see that you might be threatening." Luitwin muttered coldly with nary a flinch in his voice, affected little by the same fear that likely drove the near-child to avoiding a man who got pulled aboard with a knife in his torso. Either it was that, or the captain was keeping a tight lid on his men, their ambassador being even more absent now that his duties were spent.<br/><br/>Wrapping the old cloth in his hands, he pulled himself away from Ardnt to discard them in the usual basket and return his satchel, voice raised now that they weren't just inches apart. "I take it you'd like to visit the toilets? Even if it is for a face rinse.... Mn..." Mentally searching, he gave a small, idle hum. "If it's not a terrible question to ask... what keeps you entertained usually? I can't offer much in the ways of communication. Perhaps you read? I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't be delighted to leave some scripture for you, even if you don't read it with a full heart." He chided a little, at himself if not aimless, "I'd read to you, since it's a habit I'll be taking to anyway if this trip serves me right, but you wouldn't like that I take it?"<br/><br/>Ardnt was simply dangerous to be around, not because of a history of violence or the imposing threat of being so close to where he slept at night. It was his natural air and the weight of all his years and hardships that Luitwin could feel when close to him. And beyond the neutering of such internal thoughts he forced on himself, more primal attractions... Scent, touch, sound. The monk buried whatever growing contempt he had for the man's mere presence with the rest of the demons he hid in his cerebral closet.