Jofre hates being indoors.

When he was a baby his mother would always have to take him out of the house to get him to shut up, even in the dead of winter; she'd lash him to her back wrapped in extra blankets while she got firewood or dug a path to the barn, and give everyone a reprieve.  They might have left him outside for a bit longer without anyone watching over him and seen how he liked that, but there'd been five stillbirths in a row before him.  And he was a really easy baby once springtime rolled around.  One could leave him under a tree for hours, with a dog vaguely nearby to bark for monsters, and collect him for a nurse whenever reminded by one's milk supply, and he'd be happy as a clam even with ants crawling across him and grass in his hair.  Put a roof over his head and he starts gasping for air and howling like he's being crushed.

He had an exceptionally happy childhood from then on until he had to start school.  School was Hell on Golarion, which was arguably the point, but for Jofre it did not educate him on anything, not what they had in mind for him to pick up nor any of the things kids usually gather from exposure.  He gave it a day and a half and he started escaping.  He'd go for the window when the teacher wasn't looking; he'd disappear when it was time to leave home for the day and hide in the oats or the apple trees.  They tried tying him to his desk and he'd just moan, and get louder if they hit him.  He started staying up all night long, watching the stars and listening to the crickets, and sleeping out of doors during the day, rain or shine, and they gave up.

Jofre ran away to sea when he was ten.  He found a boat that didn't ask too many questions and he learned knots and winds and tides and Gozreh.

In port the captain has to make like they're all praying to Asmodeus for their seaborne trading voyages even though obviously a seaborne trading voyage is going to go for Gozreh and Abadar and Desna for each of those words respectively.  The ship's wizard is a suspicious little cuss Jofre doesn't care for, but keeping him socially isolated enough that he doesn't have any proof he can bring to the Inquisition when they're ashore isn't too hard.  The career sailors know what's up.  Gozreh for the sea and sky, Abadar for the coins and commodities, Desna to read the stars aright.  Gozreh is Jofre's favorite.  On a boat, one must be indoors sometimes.  It's not advisable to sleep on the deck, if nothing else.  But it's more tolerable in a ship, where the motion reassures him in a way the wind outside a house can't: you're out in the world.  The world is all around.  You are part of the great ship-creature, one of the organs of the Dutiful, and it's outside in the weather, it's under the moon and toasting in the sun and sprayed with the sea.  Sometimes it sounds like Gozreh telling him so Herself.

When Jofre gets his first circle he doesn't tell anybody.  He can pray in the crow's nest or in the cradle of the rocking hold or in the rigging, as long as it's a quiet morning, and if he's interrupted Gozreh doesn't seem to mind so much and She's there again the next day.  He casts spells seldom and in private and when the ship's wizard is accounted for elsewhere.  He's got a dripping-leaf symbol made of seashell and enamel that he bought himself in port in the Isle of Erran and he has an inner pocket it can hide in.

When they run into a pirate fleet, and there's fighting, Jofre has his second circle, he tells the captain.  The captain comes up with an excuse to dismiss the ship's wizard, conducts a few interviews of prospective new ones, and then doesn't hire any.  Jofre can't cast Fireball, but most prospective new ship's wizards can't either; that takes third circle, and a third circle wizard has a lot of options.  As long as a ship looks like somebody aboard's got Mending, anyone who'd be deterred by the possibility of a fireball wizard is already factoring the risk in.  It's worth being without one, reasons the captain, to be able to openly channel to keep the men in good shape, and if Jofre can circle up again, he thinks he'll get Fly, and then he'll be able to look just like a fireball from a distance.  He's very excited about being able to fly.  He should probably be worried about the other sailors turning him in, but the norms against mutiny, he thinks, are stronger than those against tolerating a cleric of Gozreh when your livelihood is the sea.

Someone does turn him in, but they do it the morning before the Four-Day War, so Jofre has not been successfully arrested yet by the time the captain decides to sail half-empty and be somewhere other than Cheliax for the next few months.

Later, Jofre gets a letter, from some enterprising clerk of the Queen's who notices that there's a warrant for his arrest and no record that it was carried out.  The good ship Dutiful, hearing the news of the war's swiftness in Absalom and turning around to head home again, sets a course back to Cheliax.  They put him off in Westcrown, despite his complaints that he will probably have to be in a building for the proceedings of the Convention and would rather suffer in some more dignified way, like scurvy.

At least there's such an influx of people into the city that it will not look too irregular if he tries to rent a rooftop to sleep on.