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“Where'd you get that mug, Wealwell?!”
Max was covered in blood and Wealwell was covered in barf. Maxwell looked feral in a way Wealwell hadn't seen before and he'd seen the worst of him. He screamed as his brother came toward him.
“Where'd you get it!”
Wealwell slid away just as Max's bloody hand was reaching for him. He ran toward the galley- completely unmoving from the torso up while his legs carried him in long strides- and Max would have followed but that they were under attack and he simply didn't have time to go chasing after him. He shouted in frustration but fixed his gaze on the next swooping pennyfarthing.
“Oh, dear,” Bert fawned as Wealwell entered his kitchen. “It's bad out there, is it?”
Wealwell retrieved the “Grandpa of the Year” mug from atop his hat. He looked at it plaintively for a moment, feeling all the emotions it held. At the moment it was stained brown from Pappy's tobacco.
For the first time he didn't have words for Bert. He just ran to the industrial sink and washed the mug with shaking hands. Then he cleaned himself up, and his clothes the best he could.
He felt Bert's light touch on his shoulder. “You alright, lad?”
Wealwell looked at the old man and began to sob.
“Oh, dear,” Bert soothed, rubbing Wealwell's shoulder. “It'll be alright.”
“Oh, Bert-” Wealwell sniffled, and flung his arms around the tiny man.
Bert grimaced a bit at the lingering vomit smell, but feelings were always more important. He held the young man and let him cry.
*
“Where is it, Wealwell?” Maxwell demanded.
“I left it in the galley, with Bert.”
“What the hell were you doing with it?”
Wealwell strangled his vomit-stained cravat, now loose in his hands. “It's important to Daisuke.”
“What?! It's important to ME!”
“I know, Maxwell.”
“Do you? Do you know?!” Maxwell slammed a fist on the table in Wealwell's cabin.
“Yes. I do. I promise I do. He was important to me too, Maxwell.”
That seemed to cause Max to simmer a bit. “What's that old man even doing with it? Using it as a dip cup? That's so-” his anger turned back up to a boil- “so disrespectful!”
“I know it seems that way. Pappy's just a bit rough around the edges.”
“Well, fuck Pappy!”
Wealwell pursed his lips tightly, trying to give nothing away but inadvertently showing his entire hand to Maxwell.
“Damnit, you're in love with him, aren't you?”
“I'm sorry, Maxwell. Truly I am. I told him I wouldn't let you have it back, and I'm just starting to make some headway with him. I don't want to lose his trust.”
“To hell with his trust! I'm your brother!”
“And he's just a sad old man!” Wealwell raised his voice slightly. Maxwell, for his part, looked a bit taken aback.
“He's lonely and he's scared. I know he's a pain in the ass, but he's just an old man, Maxwell. He wants to feel useful, appreciated. He doesn't have any family in his life but Olethra, and that's only been for the past month. When she gave that thing to Goldbeard it broke his heart! It was all a joke to her but it hurt him. So he lashed out. I know he should have given it back to you, but-” Wealwell sighed. “He's just a sad old man.”
Wealwell watched his brother digest this. Maxwell grit his teeth, his perfectly squared jaw clenching. After a quiet moment, Wealwell approached him cautiously. Maxwell let his brother embrace him and, eventually, put an arm around him, too.
“I know you loved our grandfather. I did too. And we are his living legacy. Do you hear me, Maxwell? Do you?”
Maxwell nodded slightly, pouting.
“I know that mug is important to you. And, if you really feel like you need it, I'll talk to Pappy. But, maybe for now, just think about it.” Wealwell massaged Max's biceps tenderly. “We're here, Maxwell, in Zood!”
Wealwell took his brother’s face in his hands. “We may never get home again. I know that feels frightening. And we need something to cling to. But I'm here, Maxwell. I'm here and we're together. I'm genuinely sorry that I've made you feel like you can't trust me. I never wanted to make you feel like that. You're never alone, Maxwell. You're my brother. And we are our grandfather's heirs. Nothing can take that away.”
“Damnit, Wealwell.” Max sighed and tightened his hold on his brother.
“It's alright, Maxwell. I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere.”
Max's scabbed and bruised hands clung to the back of Wealwell's waistcoat as he began to sob into his brother’s shoulder.