[Log] Domestic interlude

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Crew Commons, Grace O'Malley [Sihnon]
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Despite the fact that there is a ball later this day, Josephine is presently in the galley, working hard. It seems she has decided to clean everything..and by everything, that is to say /everything/ that is in the galley, scrubbing, dusting, polishing, and rearranging every dish, cup, piece of flatware, pot, pan, food item, storage unit, and surface that can be found. She must have been at this for hours already, from the state of her work clothes and the tired, if diligent expression upon her face. Right now, she is scrubbing the interior of one of the lower cabinets, there on her knees with a bucket and a sponge.


Early morning finds Saienne bare-footed, in shirt sleeves, and on an urgent quest for breakfast. As she rounds the corner of the counter and steps into the ordered chaos that Josephine has made of the galley she pauses and draws to a halt. "Mornin'," she says dryly, surveying the surfaces crowded with all manner of kitchen paraphenalia. "We got a sight more cookin' stuff than I ever realised, ain't we?" She steps forward and picks up a strange contraption with a handle and some kind of clamp attachment and peers at it for a moment. "You got an inklin' as to what this does, 'cos I reckon it might be that engine part Ronnie was searchin' high an' low for last week..."


Josephine pulls her head out of the cabinet too quickly when she hears Saienne's voice and manages to make a rather impressively awful sound with her head against the frame of the little door. "Ow..." she says, weakly, slumping on the floor with her back to the furniture as she eyes the strange device in the other woman's hand. "I think it is..a passoire," she declares. Reaching up to touch her head, gingerly, she sighs at the very small amount of blood on her fingers. "Well that's not good. Can't trust cabinets these days. Always moving in a person's way, where they don't belong."


"Oh!" Sai exclaims in sympathy to Josephine's 'ow', and already she's bent to her knees to make sure the cook hasn't hit her head too hard. There's an urgency to her concern, and she reaches out a hand to touch Josephine's shoulder - although she doesn't quite make contact. Seeing that the other woman is still talking - and still talking sense - she rocks back on her heels and lets the passoire drop, forgotten, to the floor. "Josephine, I surely am sorry," she says, earnestly. "I should have been... louder, or somesuch. Taken lessons from Kael." She grins crookedly. "You ain't bleedin'...?" She begins, and then sees the speckle of blood on Josephine's fingers. "Oh, good gorram, you are."


"It's not anything worth fretting about," Josephine assures with a reassuring smile. "I think I'll just..sit here for a small moment and then I'm sure I'll be fine." She takes a slow, deep breath, remaining just where she is. "And there isn't anything to be sorry about. It's the cabinet's fault, as we both know full well. The poor passoire.. did it break?"


Saienne glances at the fallen implement at her side. "What? Oh, no. I don't reckon so." She picks it up again and gives it a cursory inspection. "I don't reckon it dropped far." She looks at Josephine again. "Can I get you a glass of water or somesuch? Or tea?" She raises her gaze then to the stuff on the cabinet tops. "Um, if I can find the teapot, of course. An' the tea." A crooked grin, and she hefts the passoire in front of her, brandishing it almost. "What's it for, anyhow?"


"That's alright, Sai," Josephine says, with a bit of a smile again as slowly she pushes herself to her feet. "A passoire is for making liquid vegetable soups and the like..or tomato sauce, I suppose, if you don't want the skin and seeds getting through. Very practical, really." She heads to the sink to moisten a clean towel and dab it to the back of her head, with a bit of a wince. "Good thing I'm so hard-headed, eh?" she says, with a grin, making light of the moment.


"Looks like an implement of torture," Sai murmurs, eyeing the thing with extreme skepticism. She hauls herself to her feet a few seconds after Josephine and then places the passoire carefully back on the counter - as exactly where she picked it up from as she is able, presumably so as not to disturb the order Josephine now doubt has in her mind. She folds her arms over her chest and nods in response to Josephine's hard-headed comment - although her expression is still far from happy. "Ain't it just?" With a bit of a sigh, she turns away from Josephine and begins to search around for a tea cup. "I heard a rumour of peaches for breakfast, an' all." She says.


"Oh! Yes," Josephine replies, scooting around stuff to get to the stove, after she determines that her head is no longer bleeding and properly washes her hands. "They're canned peaches, but they don't taste half bad, really..I put them in with the oatmeal, if you're wanting a bowl. Ah..I really should start putting some of this away. Don't know why I made such a mess, but I just really felt the need to /do/ something..ever have one of those days?" She's already scooping out a bowl for Saienne. "I wonder if I should put a cold pack on my head or not. Never was sure when it was better to just leave well enough alone with such things. Here you go," she presents the other woman with the bowl. "If it's not sweet enough the brown sugar is..." After a moment's hesitation, she points to the relevant container, "Right there."


"Really, I do," says Saienne, mildly. "More or less every day, ain't it so? Got my laziness beaten out of me long years ago, an' all that's left is guilt if I find myself sittin' still." She grins crookedly and accepts the bowl from Josephine with a heartfelt: "Thank you." Lifting a spoon from a pile on the countertop, she dips it into the oatmeal. At Josephine's cold pack question, Sai peers critically at the other woman's head. "Well, I would if you feel like a bump is comin' up. Ice don't do much but reduce the swellin', or so I believe." She eats a spoonful of oatmeal. "Let me get this down," she says, "An' I'll give you a hand." A pause. "If you want it, of course."


Josephine smiles warmly. "I'd like that very much," she admits. "But take your time with breakfast. Sit down. Relax. It's better for digestion," the cook advises as she starts to put some things away, with a nostalgic sigh. Most of the utensils and such are of a quality that seems out of place on a ship like Grace. "And I can do nothing, when I need to. That's what meditation is, pretty much. I suppose I've just had a lot on my mind, lately..what with being away for a month and all. I never thought it would feel so peculiar coming back." Once all the cutlery is in place, she starts on the dishes and such, to get them out of the way. "Then the events yesterday are still weighing on my mind..."


Saienne does as she's advised and takes a seat at one of the benches around the dining table. She folds her legs up under her and sits lotus-style - in a posture not dissimilar to Josephine's manner of meditation as seen yesterday. "I did observe you were... thoughtful back on Eavesdown," Sai says, choosing her words carefully. "But you seemed very much to be concentratin' on that thoughtfulness an' I didn't think it appropriate to intrude." She frowns, eats some more oatmeal, and the crowsfeet around her dark eyes wrinkle deeply. "How do you mean, peculiar? This is your home, ain't it? An' we did miss you so."


"Oh, I know it, Sai," Josephine says, with heartfelt feeling, "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I guess it was just strange coming back from such a different place, where people...well they see me as something very different than I am here, I suppose you could say. Then the first three or four times I walked to the galley, well..there were other people cooking!" She scoots one stack of plates where it should be, and then another. "Being that there hasn't been much use for my diplomatic skills in ages, well, and not to say that I feel like I don't belong or anything, but I just feel..like it's harder for me to contribute to everyone's lives in a useful way as of late.. I don't know if I'm explaining that in a way that makes any kind of sense.."


"I reckon that'd be a little disorientating, sure enough," Saienne concedes, munching on beautifully peachy oatmeal. "But it ain't just about the cookin', Josephine. I mean, I reckon we could all get on with cheese on toast, if we really had to, an' whatever weird protein thing Kael decided to attempt next..." At this pause there is a slight frown and an almost imperceptible shudder. "Best not dwell on that, I reckon." She pauses, staring thoughtfully into the middle distance - as if she can see through the bulkhead to the sunlight and some greater truth. When she speaks again, it is slowly and with great consideration: "You mean more to the folk here than the sum of your cookin' or your diplomacy, an' I hope you know it." She waves the spoon - empty now, thankfully - in the air in a vague gesture. "You're the heart of things, ain't you?"


Josephine tilts her head with a smile, glancing the other woman's way. "Oh, Sai," she chides softly, "everyone has their own heart that guides them well enough. And I know I'm more to everyone here than the sum of my skills.. We're family, after all. I know it isn't entirely reasonable, this feeling of mine, but..I suppose that's why it's called a feeling rather than logic, you know?" The little woman has to pull out the stepstool to put her mixing bowls away, but it is quickly done. "Plus, I've been worried about Hatch lately," she admits, with her usual openness. "He's not..how he used to be, when it comes to being the First Mate and all.. and I'm half terrified that I'm somehow at least significantly to blame for that."


Saienne looks down into her oatmeal, apparently unsure, initially, of how to take Josephine's answer. "I reckon I meant it more in the nuturin' sense than the guidin' sense, Josephine. With your worryin' about us an' makin' sure we got peaches for our oatmeal, canned or otherwise." She smiles a lop-sided smile. "I know you got wisdom beyond your years an' all, but I reckon I seen a few more sunsets than you an' I know a good heart when I see one, an' all." She finishes up her oatmeal and stands to bring the empty bowl back to the galley, loitering in the gap between the counter and the main area of the Commons. "An' about Hatch..." She pauses there, frowning again. "I ain't able to comment, I reckon, on account of not knowin' him before you an' he..." A shrug. "But I highly doubt it's on your account, Josephine. An idiot could tell how he feels about you." She smiles crookedly. "An' how much he's missed you." She rinses the bowl very quickly and sets it to dry in Josephine's pristine kitchen. "An' now I reckon I should get myself dressed for this ball thing." And she steps off to the portside quarters to do just that.