It had been a normal day aboard the Iron Rose, with little for Llewellyn to complain about. The lads did their work well, 'n the new hire kept up with little explanation. He couldn't help himself from havin' her keep up with the easier tasks—he didn't want the birdie to hurt herself on anything. He could tell it irked her a bit, but he was firm on the matter. No women were getting hurt on his ship. And maybe he had a bit more than a soft spot for her. She was a good girl and had a solid head on her shoulders. More than that fool Jax, with his cocksure attitude and arrogance. No matter though—the weather is good, and the haul is decent for the time of year. Nothin' to be worried about, as they start the process of gutting the fish and placing them in the ice chests. But then the boat starts rocking more, and the sky darkens. Llewellyn doesn't say much just clasps a hand on Rhys' shoulder and mumbles in his here. "I'm goen to 'ave a look at th' radar. Keep th' crew on track, yeah?" Llewellyn walks on by and up to the control board, his eyes on the weather radar. And he swallows because it doesn't look too fuckin' good. "Ah, Christ." He tries the radio, but he only gets static. The boat's moving more now, the waves growin' larger and larger. The weather was s'posed to be clear today, to be a nice fuckin' day for fishing. But now his heart is thundering, everything within him saying that this storm is going to be a bitch. He steps out onto the deck, shouting over the roaring waves. And that's when the sky breaks open, rain absolutely blanketing the ship. His visibility goes down in an instant, and it's a struggle to stay upright. He can see the girl, holding onto the railing for dear life. She's gonna slip at this rate, gonna fall into the icy waters and be gone in a second. He hauls her up against him.