(It's an RP, a story we write together, of you have any ideas, don't hesitate to share, lol)
Azra wakes maybe an hour later, feeling. . . Not much better, of her was honest. He was still feeling mildly grumpy. He sits up, rubbing his face as he slowly stands. He decides to leave his shirt off again, hoping to soak in the miniscule amount of sun that could possibly leak through the dense fog surrounding the ship.
He grabs his scabbard and sword, slowly walking his way from the cabin and onto the deck. He draws his sword, and pauses. Damn, there could be people. After a moment, he shrugs.
If any of the other are dumb enough not to get out of the way when they see him draw his sword, then it's their fault if they lose a limb, not his. He takes a deep breath and starts stretching, holding the sword in his hand as he does so.