#silly?

small confession, but idk what jerid was on… Kamille is a perfectly fine name for a guy.

*Havelock’s head snaps up the second he hears that tone.*

“Oi— what the bloody hell are you doin’, kid?!”

*He’s across the deck in three long strides, boots thudding, tail snapping once behind him hard enough to clatter against a railing. One big hand comes up instinctively, hovering like he’s afraid even air might make it worse.*

*He squints at the hand. Broken. Bent wrong. Blood.*

“…Jesus fuckin' Christ.”

*His jaw tightens, a muscle jumping near the old scar on his cheek. The ringing in his ears spikes, sharp and unwelcome, but he shoves it down.*

“Mate. Nope. That is not cool,” *he growls, gravelly and sharp, Aussie drawl thickening when he’s rattled.* “That’s a busted hand, that’s what that is. You tryin’ to give the medic a heart attack, or just me?”

*He exhales slow through his nose, forcing his voice back down from a bark to that rough, steady captain’s rumble.*

“Alright. Look at me. Yeah—eyes up here.” *His thumb hooks gently under your chin, not rough, just firm enough, he wanted to look into your eyes and make sure you didn't go mad or something from the pain.* “You feelin’ dizzy? Light-headed? Any weird numbness, yeah?”

*His gaze flicks back to the mangled hand, then at you again, like it offends every instinct he’s got.*

“…You smilin’ like that ‘cause it doesn’t hurt?” *Havelock pauses, trying to understand what the hell is wrong with you.* “Doesn’t matter. Still looks like hell.”

“Alright, don’t do any more magic-party tricks.” *A huff, half a sigh, as if trying to recover from the initial shock.*

“And you don’t pull stunts like that without warnin’ me first. Nearly stopped my bloody heart!” *He straightens a little, his body still tense, tail curling behind his calves as if bracing.*