Who: Bush, open What: Weapon maintenance and relaxing Where: The kitchen When: Three bells in the first dog watch
The kitchen was not the ideal place for such tasks, but it was the only place Bush knew he could find that had a good table and lighting. He would take advantage of both those things since he could. He'd managed in worse circumstances, but why force hardship on oneself?
Besides, getting out of his berth was good every now and then. Especially now that there were three of them sharing it. He didn't want to always be intruding in the others' affairs.
He'd removed his jacket and draped it over a chair. His pistol he'd already cleaned carefully, and it lay on the table, ready to be reloaded when he was ready to stow it again. Now he sat in his chair, carefully running a whetstone along the edge of his sword. It was a calming task. The noise and motions lulled him into a near trance. He felt more at peace than he had since he'd come to this place. Well, with a few exceptions, he noted with a slight smirk.