Well, this was inevitable. (Open post)

[quatreailes]

If anyone's looking for Joly, he's in his cabin. More precisely; stitting in a large overstuffed armchair, with a blanket thrown around his shoulders and a steaming cup of coffee in one hand. A fascinating (to him) book on late nineteenth-century medicine is open on his lap, but he isn't reading it-- instead he's staring fixedly at his bed as

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[joliaigle]

*pokes his head in, then frowns and goes over* Are you ill, petit?

[quatreailes]

*smiles at him as he comes in, self-effacing* A little.

[joliaigle]

Well, what is it this time? And what's so interesting about that bed?

[quatreailes]

All the sea air, perhaps. :P *glances back at the bed* ...Which way's north, do you know?

[ferrefriend]

*pokes his head in* Joly?

[quatreailes]

*looks up*

Oui?

[ferrefriend]

Ah, you are there. I hadn't heard any sound from you in some time and was concerned. Is something the matter, mon ami?

[quatreailes]

Oh, I may be coming down with something. *it's a common enough occurence, really* *brightens suddenly* --Say, 'Ferre, do you where one might find a compass around here?

[pure_to_shyness]

*Wanders by in a half-distracted sort of way* Oh, hello, Joly. Is your book not interesting?