Bakugou used to be afraid of sleeping. His death in his old world had startled him - startled him enough to realise he wasn't unstoppable, he was mortal like everyone else. It was sad how lives were all so fragile, far too easy to tear apart and shred. The fragments of life that strung them all together could not only be undone but cut, snapped and broken like a masterpiece set alight. He experienced the same fearful sensation after awakening from his coma, cold sweats and night terrors the moment he fell into deep slumber. Death, in his experience, was frighteningly similar to sleep. It was because the main thing they shared in common, he realises, was the fact that it deactivated the conscious mind. It was the mind that was the only thing that could interpret the sensation of being along but unlike the heart, it was capable of tiring. Sooner or later, he would pass out only to wake up and feel an overwhelming sense of grief that he was alive, always paranoid that he would close his eyes and never open them. Maybe the main reason it was so horrifying was because death seemed so...peaceful. Nowadays, Bakugou realises he isn't even afraid of dying anymore. He doesn't want to feel the pain, doesn't like the idea that it can suddenly dawn on him, but he realises that when it sweeps over him, it was the longterm that mattered. He will no longer have to think. It was just the anticipation that death was waiting to strike him down at any moment that made the Reaver shudder.

Well, no matter how hard he's tried to convince himself that he'll be okay with disappearing, his heart says otherwise. It flutters in discomfort with the waves, rocking him as if he too were sleeping within The Typhoon's ship. Unfortunately, he wasn't in the safety of his own blacksmiths hut. No, he was outside and sitting on the cold sands of the beach, eyeing the stars quietly. He's had dreams in this world before but they were no dreams he could control. Usually they were so real, so full of emotions, that he was fooled that he was awake. There was always inconsistencies, irregularities that glitched within the system of his mind, causing him to realise he was asleep and forcing him to awaken. One time, he had a dream he was human again. It was the dream he woke up crying from because the memories were abusive, breaking him down because they were flaunting what he desired so much and would never be able to reach again. He just wanted his old life back but at the same time he felt troubled. For once, he felt a serenity in this world that he couldn't quite experience in the other. It all hurt too much.

The yowl wasn't difficult to hear when the night was so quiet, filled only with the sounds of the ocean and The Tempest's gentle movements. He feels immediately concerned, suddenly leaping onto his paws, standing bravely. He doesn't hesitate to move swiftly towards the ship, worried that there was some kind of intruder, a murderer in the midst. Bakugou refuses to allow such tragedies occur within the island. He had failed so many times, it was frustrating him. It made him feel useless. His steps are hurried now, paws pattering against the wood of the ship, ears folded back against his cranium. He doesn't stop to think that whatever it was that it must have been some bad dream. Sometimes he forgets that everyone else had their own fair share of angst, pain that defined them. He's heard it so many times, all those cheesy lines of others sharing pain - heroes who understood each other because they came from rough beginnings. It all felt too cliche to him but sometimes there was a truth to the words. Words lost meaning over time but the feelings were real and blooming. That was perhaps the problem of any world. There was so much suffering that they had all become desensitised, allowed themselves to normalise such tragedies that they didn't hurt so much anymore. Maybe it was because everyone was sick of being empathetic.

Then again, he's never really cared. Bakugou himself was self-centred. He worried little about the struggles of others, yelling at anyone who frustrated him. It was too self-destroying to feel the sensation of guilt rise within him. This world was changing him, remolding the thoughts of his mind. He doesn't know how to feel. The universe was unhappy with who he was and sought to recreate him. To feel himself becoming soft, weakened by his emotions, only made him angrier. It was how he had always been. His feelings always poured through the flames of his fury, his rage consumed all those horrible thoughts away. Now it was as if everything had been extinguished and he no longer felt like himself. The Reaver takes an extra breath, pushing his thoughts aside when he too bursts in. He was about to ask what had happened, not there to hear the brief exchange between the Captain and the Officer, when he hears the last few words uttered by the dream demon. The ragdoll's fur relaxes from its bristled state. "I thought someone was gettin' fuckin' murdered or something," the Reaver mutters, about to leave when he noticed the savannah cat's state. "You, uh, don't look too fine.

His eyes lock onto the savannah's in return, daring the male to fight him with no more but a displeased expression. Bakugou hadn't said anything wrong, it was likely others might have heard the yell, fearing that there may have been a killer on the loose. The Reaver had every right to be concerned. With The Pitt and their number of captures, picking pirates as if they were ripened berries, thinking that the shout was the result of a member being kidnapped was justifiable. He hadn't known the cry came from none other than Caesar, too groggy and tired himself. He's never even heard the other in so much panic and fear. "Paranoid." He let the words slip, tumbling the moment it appeared in his mind. Sanguine gaze stays fixated on the Officer before the ragdoll draws his attention away, not wishing to look at the shaken form of the usually grumpy male. It was concerning that the simple splatter of a fish could cause such a bloodcurdling cry, brows furrowing slightly but deciding not to push the other any further. He doubts he's needed here anyway. The Captain was capable enough and Caesar didn't need to be babied.

"I'm going to sleep then," the ragdoll mumbles, not caring to announce it loud enough. It was quiet enough to be heard if one wanted to pay specific attention to him, otherwise his words were lost with the wind. The male, calming himself, turns around and exits through the door. He doesn't understand the Officer. Heck, he hardly knew anything about him because he never took the time to understand his character. As far as he was concerned, he was trusted enough to be his superior, the closest thing to a leader considering they didn't have a quartermaster. His nose scrunches as the sound of his pawsteps echo through the ship, the male walking down the platform and rekindling with the sensation of sand beneath him. There were aspects of Caesar and Bakugou that were similar, but they were the aspects that would never get along with each other. Somehow, though, just somehow, they were able to live on the same island together. When he had first met the Officer, he genuinely thought him to be the worst of his problems. He was wrong about that, the two often sharing opinions. It bothered him but he let it happen. He would rather be accompanied by the likes of Caesar than one of the ferals.