This is terribly uncomfortable

Another night that he couldn't sleep. He longed for a warm body to sleep next to at night and found himself missing Sorcerer almost more than he was willing to bare. Would the man agree to move to the Hallow with him? Would his family like him? Everything seemed to go well at the bonfire, but he was afraid of overwhelming the man with too much at once. Maybe he should send him another letter, asking him to be his? That seemed strange, honestly, but he wasn't sure how he could face any rejection.

Sleeplessness led to one thing for Grimshaw, and that was wandering. On occasion he would hunt, but really only if the oppertunity arose. Tonight, however, he wasn't in the least bit interested. Instead, a storm hung on the horizon and he felt the need to stare at it from the shoreline of the shimmering shore, desperate to remember what happened between the time he left the armada and when he washed up across the island from here. Brows furrowed as he stood in the glittering sand, watching as the lightning lit up the clouds surrounding it's storm, deep in thought.

"Speech!"