Lore had memorized the short scar that cut through his eyebrow, pointing down at the outer corner of his eye. There had been no effort in it, the way he always seemed to find her in quiet moments aboard the ship, and lean in just a little more than was necessary.
She had memorized that lean as well. The angle of his elbow against the rail. The slant of his leg running down to his foot tipping up off the deck. The gentle rise of his shoulders. Every stroke spelled out laziness, quietly hiding the way he tilted toward her.
He was memorizing her too, day by day. She felt it in the quick way his eyes flicked around her face when she smiled. He watched her hands on the rail, sliding lightly until the height of a swell forced her to grip too hard. Glancing down, he traced the line of her feet against the deck, and marked all the ways she could hide her face behind nothing when she wanted to.
One day after another.
She knew the curl of his smile and the sound of the breath that he used to decide it was time to go back to work, before she realized there was no admiration in his attention.
All this weight was simple curiosity.