Blake grunted as Mallory continued searching the vicinity for something; he wasn't sure what she was looking for, but then he remembered the blood spilling out slowly from under his hand. "Mal, y'think it'll ge' better if I givit som'air?"<br/><br/>He moved his hand slightly only to see the flow quicken immediately; he clamped his palm back down and released a squeal of pain at the harsh stinging sensation he felt upon making contact again. In an attempt to forget the pain, he took note of his surroundings; the sound of dripping water was all around them, there was mold (or mildew? he wasn't sure) everywhere and although they couldn't feel the ship swaying quite so much anymore, the floorboards he sat on felt so waterlogged and soft he wondered how long it would be before he sunk right through.<br/><br/>Normally he would've worried, about being thrown down into the brig, or about the boards under him, or about the wound in his arm that still bled freely, but he had no reason to be concerned. Mallory was the smartest person in the world- if anyone could figure things out, it was her. He grinned sloppily up at her as she joked about her puke, suddenly aware of how lightheaded he was feeling.<br/><br/>"Mal, d'you, d'you think if we tore a bit off m'shirt?"<br/><br/>He blinked sleepily as he stared at the horribly dirty fabric covering his chest. A section ripped off from the sleeve would probably be good for a bandage- it seemed like a good idea, but it hadn't come from Mal so he wasn't sure. He didn't often get good ideas. But then, the pirate had called him dumber than a pile of bricks, earlier. The sea air must've been making him smarter.<br/><br/>"Mal, d'you think fish can talk? How come they's never says nothin', but they's alway know to swim t'gether?"<br/><br/>He blinked, and everything around him suddenly grew very fuzzy.<br/><br/>"If I were a fish, m'name… name'd be Codie."