Jerijah didn't quite know what to make of the sight before him. Miz Long Tall n' Creepy was sprawled, somehow, horizontally across the galley, one long leg braced on the patch of wall just above the sink, the other hooked under the edge of the upper cabinet by one polished black bootheel. On the opposite counter, she lay looking up at the underside of the cupboard with a half dozen screws and a lit cigarette in her mouth, screwing something into the wood with the micro-adjuster grasped in her pale, dexterous hand.
His eyes followed the reinforced leather strap encircling her narrow hips up to a hook in the ceiling, where her makeshift sling hung by a heavy thorium ring. When he looked back at the woman, she was returning his stare with a level gaze of her own, hardware-studded mouth turned up at the corner. He shivered.
"Mmmph." She spit the screws into her free hand, ass swaying slightly in the sling as she caught the cigarette between two spidery fingers. "Bit of a project, this place. Need somethin'?"
Aware that his mouth was open slightly, Jerijah closed it and swallowed. Something about the new mess wench gave him a right cottonmouth, and it was starting to get on his nerves. "Well what d'ya think yer doin', missy?"
"Buildin' a fuckin' spice rack, what's it look like?" Cigarette deposited safely back in her mouth, Skulley thumbed a silvery, circular object off her workspace/chest and screwed it to the underside of the overhead cabinet. Just a few quick turns and it was added to the neat row of threaded metal lids clinging to the wood like man-made barnacles. She set down the screwdriver and looked up at her handiwork among the curls of smoke.
"Mustardbeard didn't need no fancy spice rack."
Skulley pushed off the countertop and swung gracefully to her feet, slipping both hands into her pockets as she went vertical. Propped on the edge of her swing with her ankles crossed, she regarded him gravely while puffing on her smoke. "Do I look like Mustardbeard t'you?"
He thought about it a bit too long. "... Nay."
She only raised a bemused eyebrow in response, and he found himself clearing his throat. Fucking drymouth. He was a little disturbed to find himself offering a hand, even if it was a bit grudging. Skulley grinned. "Aye, there's a crate of foodstuffs up on deck an' a pressurecooker. Looks like somethin' straight outta fuckin' Gnomeregan, y'can't miss it. Bring 'em on down for me if y'would, love."