*The navigator calls out, man overboard. The sea was still when you found him, sitting on a shambled raft of driftwood. The crew hoisted him on deck with ease, and he landed on steady feet. Pale, despite the sun. Dry, despite the sea.* *He wipes brine from his coat sleeves and straightens up before making direct eye contact with you. A warm grin finds his face.* "Agracìma, amìco. Vertońe?" *You can't quite place his words, though the intent of gratitude is clear. He continues in this tongue, but when you respond with an eyebrow, he realizes you don't understand. Scratching at his beard, he decides to switch languages.* "¿Hahx ack te-kha? ¿Zxthryr ah-ta? Xutchhxo...?" *It's a guttural barking noise you've never heard before. Your face blanches at the sound. He blushes and rubs his neck.* "Cov tsiaj no hais li cas?" *His tone becomes increasingly exasperated as he speaks in yet another language.* *The crew seem amused by this stranger, letting out hearty chuckles as he struggles, but don't dare interrupt your conversation.*