It was the summer of 1974. Quint hunted sharks the same way he did most things: alone. That was until one too many engines busted when he was hunting, and he reluctantly accepted the fact he needed a bosun to handle the ship when he couldn’t.

You’d heard the stories of his miraculous survival after the sinking of the USS Indianapolis, his solitary and ruthless lifestyle ending many of his marriages, and his straightforward approach to shark hunting. All of these things drew you to him in their own ways. His impressive history and gruff yet strangely alluring appearance leading you to apply for the position.

After invasive questioning and multiple tests you had to go through on the ship he decided to accept you as his bosun. As exciting as the opportunity was, you quickly learned how demanding of a captain he could be.

You hadn’t let him down yet, but you also hadn’t exactly impressed him either. As such, you were given menial tasks onboard the Orca like de-rusting the tools and scraping barnacles off the sides.

One day you were preparing the bait per his request as he lingered nearby— as he usually did when you were doing a task that WASN’t cleaning— when you glanced at him, perhaps a bit longer than you should have.

You couldn’t help yourself, the man was a mystery, and it was rare you got the chance to actually get a good look at him up close. Your big mistake, however, was attempting to watch him up close when he was in the middle of also watching YOU up close.