Pincher could understand the difficulty of being in a nomad lifestyle, always on the move without being able to settle down. Especially when it had been placed upon Pincher at an age where he had desired to figure things out by himself but had been entrapped in the idea that he must do everything his father and uncle said. Pincher do this. Pincher do that. The memories he had of them were filled with demands and orders drowning what identity he could have been had he been given the chance to figure that out by himself. But alas, destiny was not kind to many of its inhabitants and so Pincher had settled into the rugged life of a turbulent pirate. Then he had killed his father, ripped the throat of the one that had brought him to life with his mother. Had Pincher felt remorse or guilt when he had ended the life of his father? He...he didn't know. Ever since coming back to life, he was struggling to connect the mixed memories to emotions and for now, all he felt was a sickness when he thought about it.

He was currently a little far away where the others were, heading towards the camp after a brief patrol through the territory to ensure that there weren't any bothersome trespassers trying to view the island's landscape. He knew it was certainly an alluring view, the long puffs of dark smoke from the active volcano and the lighthour being beacons for many. Luckily, the only way to reach the island was from a long strip of land that was at times submerged by the crystalline waves of the ocean. However, he knew that would hardly stop many so as he was heading to go seek a break from traveling around, the dark obsidian colored canine halted when he heard voices. Specifically, one shouting with a rage that clearly was prepared to explode like a stick of dynamite. He tensed up, glancing around to lock his vibrant ice blue gaze onto a large male appearing to try and fight...the walls that were at the entrance of Typhoon's land. "...the fuck?" The blue eyed Captain breathed as the mutated male's fictional eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out if the other male was either drunk, high, or just fucking nuts. Noticing his crewmates head over, he joined in after Roxanne with his front leg aiming to playfully nudge her while heading to slip beside the side of his daughter, pressing gently against her to offer support. He glanced down at her with a soft smile lacing his coffee brown muzzle before snapping to turn towards Brad, wanting to question what the hell he was doing trying to fight concrete but held back as he simply waited for a response.