Tubers Overboard (Isaija is Searched)

Monaco Bay Weyr - Naiad's Bay Cruise
//The start of the river and lake cruise is a bit of an adventure in itself, involving a short ride on a cart driven by a couple of runnerbeasts that travel along at regular intervals. At the mouth of the river, a string of paddle boats await to ferry people down at a comfortable, leisurely pace. This portion of the river is wide and slow-flowing, allowing for easy travel of riders to - and from - the lake. Its a short but meandering adventure, with plenty of sights to see - lush foliage and nature at its finest to the west, while the entertaining sprawl of the resort luxuriously occupies the east.

At the end of the journey, riders are allowed further entertainment options, with the lake itself bustling with smaller boats acquired at the shore. Swimming is allowed in one cordoned off area, while a few houseboats are loosely scattered further south for those that might enjoy fishing or relaxing out of the sun. Its much quieter out here, with the sounds of lapping water and the creak of boats combining beautifully with the calls of wildlife off in the distance. The refreshing smells of water and occasional forest foliage lend themselves well to enhance the relaxing atmosphere of the river and lake.//

The sun is shining, the waves are crashing, and the resort is hopping! With so many new areas to explore nothing is /overly/ crowded though, and the same can be said for the Naiad's Bay Cruise. Still, there's a fair amount of people that made their way onto one of the smaller tour boats. Unfortunately - the boat operators are a little short handed. Never fear though, because Monaco has just the thing to help out - candidates. Sure they can't run things, but they can certainly help with the explanation bit! And of course, Reya needs to witness this for herself (and perhaps try steering)! The Weyrwoman is resting on one of the side benches built into the boat and dressed in a simple pair of shorts. A flowing tank top works well to conceal all but the straps of the bathing suit she's wearing underneath. An amused smile is already settled on her lips though it has no reason to be this morning!

/No/ reason to be amused this morning? That's probably not /precisely/ true. For one thing, Barnaby has been assigned to this particular boat. Possibly by someone who recognized that putting anything living into his care would be a dangerous prospect. And he has taken the new job to heart by showing up wearing an absolutely spectacular crystal blue flowing silk scarf and matching gloves. The gloves appear to be more decorative than practical, since they are made of the same almost diaphanous silk as the scarf. As the passengers get settled into their seats, Barnaby finds himself a space at the head of the boat, and delicately clears his throat. "Hello, everyone! My name is Barnaby, and I will apparently be your tour guide for today. To begin, I'm supposed to give you some safety tips, so… Don't fall out." Some of the passengers give a bit of a titter at this little joke, but the titters subside into uncomfortable silence when it becomes clear that Barnaby has no intention of saying anything more about safety than that. He glances over his shoulder to whoever is operating this rig, then back to the passenger area. "It looks like we'll be setting off any minute now! …Yep. Any minute now…"
Morning! Most people might not be huge fans of the morning but, let's be real here: Isaija loves everything and, probably, everyone. So mornings? You have a new best friend. The chef is absolutely bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and entirely too chipper to be human, quite frankly. And while it seems a Candidate has been commandeered as a cruise guide, he's very much in his element as a delivery agent for all sorts of delicious, morning-oriented vittles. Lots of sweet and savory pastries, sausages, a few interesting egg-based dishes, cheese, and similar things of that nature. It's all on a tray, meant for distribution after the cruise gets rolling, of course. He's dressed in his practical work-related attire, right down to the apron, though he does have a non-standard addition in the form of a green firelizard that's presently perched in the apron pocket over his heart. He's seated a bit toward the back and nods encouragingly while Barnaby gives the spiel. Reya, too, is spotted and sent a finger-wiggle wave of greeting but he's politely quiet for now.

Reya is…not exactly a /quiet/ customer, unfortunately. So when Barnaby mentions not falling out there's an abrupt laugh from the woman, "But that's why I'm in by bathing suit!" And just to make it clear she'll casually pull at one shoulder strap to show off the bright red piece. One unfortunate thing after another seems to be happening now because Isaija has caught her attention with that finger waggle. At first she merely replies with an enthusiastic wave back, but /then/ her brown eyes come to rest on the platter of food. Oh dear. Moments later she's standing up and not-so-subtly walking backwards towards Isaija. "Shouldn't remaining /seated/ be part of the instructions?" One particular patron asks this quite pointedly while glaring first at Reya and then at Barnaby…though the Weyrwoman doesn't seem phased by it at all!
Huh? (Type "help

Barnaby waves one blue hand dismissively. "Well, if you intended to fall in, that's just jumping and doesn't count. /Jump/ in all you want." There's probably some flaw to that logic, but if so, Barnaby doesn't seem to see it. He does squint toward the back of the boat, trying to see what might be on that tray, then clears his throat a little. "If you're visiting the snack tray, may I have a pastry? Those are pastries, aren't they? That would be /lovely/…" Then one of the passengers is asking a question, and Barnaby turns an owlish stare toward her. He blinks twice, then solemnly replies, "Well, I'm pretty sure instructions don't apply to Weyrwomen. Most especially when they come from Candidates. In fact, I'm almost completely certain that instructions generally flow the other direction. Like water down mountains, so to speak."

Oh, that's probably going to be problematic - but it's not Isaija's problem. All he can do is keep an eye on Reya as she makes her way - backwards! - to where he is. All he can do is make sure there's a spot cleared for her to sit, even if he has to bribe that seat into existing. Sorry, random cruise-goer #12, but here's an eggy tart for your trouble. "Weyrwoman, what a pleasant surprise to see you again!" Delight, thy name is Isaija. His grin is dazzling, if not downright blinding, and likewise turned to Barnaby when the lad makes his request. "Do you have a pastry preference? There are all sorts. Some filled with egg and sausage, some with a veggie mix, some with berries, another with cheese…" It's ridiculous, frankly. They're all roughly two bites or so, though, so there's plenty of room for the variety! There is a lot of nodded agreement for the rest, as regards rules and Candidates and Weyrwomen and water going down mountains. "Also," he adds helpfully with a wink for the offended patron, "she does have her swimsuit on, so even if she does tip ass over teakettle into the water, I think she'll be in better shape than most of us."

Reya reaches the cart ready to grab a pastry of Barnaby's choosing, per prequest, while shooting a grin in his direction direction. "Exactly, instructions don't app—" It's right about then that she's cut off with a loud snort from the boat operator, "Don't worry too much about flow when it comes to her. Reya, sit yer ass /down/ while we get moving." Good thing that Isaija has negotiated a spot for her because the Weyrwoman lets out a loud SIGH before quickly dropping into place, "Fine. But it's not my fault if there aren't any snacks left by the end of it." The whole exchange earns another dramatic eyeroll from the patron but they do at least keep quiet for now. The lull in activity allows the goldrider to glance up and finally catch sight of that dazzling smile from Isaija. "Surprise? And here I thought I was playing the part of stalker so well!" Mischievous gaze is sent first to him and then back up to Barnaby just as the operator sets sail!

"Ooh! Berries, please!" Barnaby requests. "What sort of berries do you have— Nevermind, just surprise me!" When the operator chimes in, Barnaby leaves him to it, without further comment. Nope, not touching /any/ of that. Instead, he finds a spot where he can post up safely as the boat sets sail. "I think I'm supposed to point out interesting things to look at, now," he announces. "My suggestion is to watch the north side of the boat for a really nice view of the resort." Which way is north? Who knows! Barnaby apparently doesn't, because there's nothing much to see on the actual north side of the boat.

"Who says you aren't the stalker?" OooOOOooh. That's a brow-wagglin' for Reya right there, matching mischief with mystery. Or not. Isaija's not really a man of mystery so much as confidence and cooking. He maintains a grip on the food-delivery device, a grip that tightens a little once the boat operator sets that boat in motion. The chef is already keeping an eye out for folks that might have a questionable tummy - he has ginger candies for that! - but he'll wait until the boat is moving smoothly before he gets up to dispense snacks. "And, rest assured, my good Weyrwoman, I always have emergency snacks, just in case." His attention is quick to snap back to Barnaby when he speaks, of course. "Berries it is, my good sir!" He deftly separates a couple of berry pastries from the herd, as it were, and motions for Barnaby to come closer. "Quickly," he stage-whispers, "before they notice!" Notice what? That there's nothing to the north or that food is already being handed out? Who knows.

Being a former member of a trade caravan Reya /definitely/ knows which direction is North. Still, when people start looking very confused and in the northern direction she looks the other way and is quick to show her excitement. "It looks AMAZING! The workers did a really great job." There's no doubt that the Weyrwoman is /very/ proud of the whole resort, but not proud enough to be distracted away from food. While Baranby goes for a berry one, Reya is quickly sneaking one of the more savory pastries while shooting a wink in reply to the cook's brow waggle. "It is my middle name, you know." Where is this joke even going? Reya is not entirely sure herself, but it doesn't stop her from enjoying it! Speaking of jokes…"Baranaby, did you tell them about the legendary bay monster?" Because that is totally a thing.

Barnaby accepts the berry pastries with a beaming smile for the provider of snacks. It does get crumbs on his very lovely gloves, but that doesn't seem to bother him much. The urge to come closer is complied with, though his expression has a sort of pleasant vacancy that makes it clear he has no idea what is going on. "Quickly where?" he stage whispers back. "It's a rather small boat…" He takes a bite of the first pastry, only to be successfully distracted by Reya. "Bay monster?" he echoes, cheerfully. "Why, no! To be honest, I hadn't heard of it. Is there a legendary bay monster?"

"It really does look amazing from here," Isaija chimes in, though he's looking in a completely different direction. He's helpful like that. "They did an incredible job, all the way around." Sagacious nodding is had. But then he catches that wink of Reya's and then he's back to grinning again, returning wink for wink. "Is that so? Weyrwoman Stalker Reya. That's how it works, right?" Smooth. "Much better than Isa Chef." Because that's definitely a thing. Don't worry about losing the joke, Weyrwoman, he'll just kick it under the couch with all the confidence of a person who knows it belongs there. Maybe. Barnaby's confusion is understandable and deftly addressed: "Oh! Sorry. I just meant over here. Because it's safer here than over there," he lies with utter conviction. "The Bay Monster has a keen sense of smell, I'm told." Or maybe it likes explosions. He might be confusing his Bay Beasts.

"Mhmm, the bay monser." Reya drops her voice quite low, eyes darting this way and that as if she's attempting to hide some large secret. "When we were getting the bay cruises set up a couple of our paddle boats kept going missing…found a few later that looked like they had /huge/ bites taken out of them. A monster's the only reasonable explanation." That or she took one of the boats for a joyride…minor details. There's several nods in response to Isa's mention of smell then, "Our Meat Maestro," because she is apparently going to stick with this nickname, "is absolutely correct. Definitely drawn by the smell of food…those kids shouldn't have been eating in the boats." Those imaginary kids.

Barnaby continues eating his pastries while taking all of this in with an admirably even keel. In fact, he seems quite entertained (isn't he supposed to be the one /doing/ the entertaining?) "It does sound rather like a bay monster," he agrees, matter-of-factly. "It's almost as though we shouldn't be having these tour rides. Wouldn't it be bad for business if someone jumped in and got eaten?" He then proceeds to do his part in preventing bay monster attacks by snagging another thing at random from Isaija's tray. Can't attract swamp monsters with snacks if you eat all the snacks!

He earned that nickname; the man's just going to own it at this point. Isaija is somber-faced and nodding right along with everything Reya says, as if every single word is Harper-written law, more than merely a fabled beast that probably didn't exist until now. Details! The chef does move to get up, but only to start dispensing some of the treats to those nearby - worry not, Barnaby! He'll be back presently! It is a small boat, after all. "Eat faster," is offered in hushed tones to those that might look to be savoring their snacks, though he does - helpfully! - flash them a wink to reassure them that he's joking, at least. "Oh, I'm sure we're perfectly safe up here for now. But those poor kids-" he shakes his head and tips his gaze skyward with an audible sniff. "-do you remember what they were supposedly eating?" He just can't quite remember. Darn.

"Well what's to say that it ate them? Thye just…disappeared. Maybe they're off on an island somewhere." Reya shoots a toothy grin in the candidate's direction. This is the woman who was spreading baseless rumors about Monaco being a military regime. She bites into her pastry now and eyes close with absolute happiness…seconds later the whole thing is gone. Is she a bit uncouth? Yes. Which is why she kind of looks a bit like a small mammal with puffed up cheeks now. She'll get the crumbs at the side of her mouth…eventually! See? She's following Isaija's instructions to a T, and only because he said to…not because she's a wild woman. She doese at least sswallow before talking though, "I think…I think it was fried tubers!"

Barnaby shakes his head a little. "I like the island theory," he remarks, mildly, looking off into the middle distance. "A charming island, I should think. With one of those ridiculous skinny trees without branches. And a little hut on stilts." He finishes his snack with quite a bit more grace than Reya. When he's finished, there's barely even a grease smear on his gloves. There's probably a magical trick to that, but he's not telling! He just settles in to let Reya continue the story of the bay monster, wrapped up enough in it to have forgotten entirely that he was supposed to be telling about the /actual/ sights.

"Fried tubers!" The declaration is made with an implied slap to his forehead, though he doesn't go that far. Isaija might well have to ask Barnaby about his trick with the gloves at some point but today is not that day, alas. He's entirely too distracted with his duty - and, really, does he even work for the cruise line? Or is he just some rogue, delivering snacks? "Yes, yes, I remember now. Those poor kids. I hope they made it to that island," but he has his doubts. He checks his tray and looks on in horror, wide-eyed, as he realizes, "Wait. Fried tubers- like these?" He points at some fried tubers on the tray, neatly wrapped in parchment sleeves. "Well, now, there's only one thing left to do, Weyrwoman. Toss them overboard." Or eat them.

Reya too finds herself amazed with the pristine quality of Barnaby's gloves. Fuerioth too would love to know that trick so the Weyrwoman would stop ruining clothes…some day. "Faranth, EXACTLY like those!" The exclamation is quite loud, though the rest of the story hasn't been, and immediately she's reaching out to snag some of those fried bits. She makes as if to throw them overboard…but instead proceeds to stuff a fair amount into her mouth. A couple /are/ tossed overboard though and for that the fish are grateful. It's just as she's done so that the goldrider freezes, eyes suddenly darting to Isa - was that rude? Because Fuerioth is saying it is. There's a look of embarassment on her features and she kind of winces "Sorry…you worked hard to make those, didn't you?" Because it was all supposed to be a /joke/! "But to be fair you /did/ tell me to toss them!" Still, she sounds like she's feeling guilty about it.

"Jays! Nooo!" The anguish is real(ly well-acted). Isaija takes one of them to huck over the side of the boat (you're welcome, fishies!), even as Reya takes plenty to go full-woodchipper on. More end up being tossed over the side to feed the fish and, in the process, Isaija just loses it. He has to put the tray down when the laughter hits, because it hits fast and hard and he's soon doubled-over, which is even better because there's Reya, coming in with the embarrassment and legitimate concern and he can barely breathe enough to lift a hand to wave it off. Eventually, eventually, he croaks out, "No, no, no, you're fine, Reya, you're fine. I did say to toss them overboard!" A few more rounds of helpless, breathless laughter follows before he can regain his senses properly to wipe the tears from his eyes. "Oh, sweet Faranth, woman. You'll be the death of me," he says, all smiles. "No need to apologize, hey? They're just fried tubers - and, to be fair, they weren't at their peak. Now, if you'd tossed one of the pastries over…" … okay, he'd probably still be laughing.

The relief on her face is quite immediate when Isaija dissolves into laughter and the slight tension that was in the Weyrwoman's shoulders releases. First it starts off as a slow chuckle but soon enough she's joining him in full laughter. It's to the point that she's clutching at her side for a moment because /laugh cramps/! And the whole while every other patron is STARING. They just wanted a nice bay tour, was that too much to ask? Apparently it was. "I bet the look on my face was amazing, wasn't it?" She's not above poking fun at herself. Still slightly red-cheeked from the amusement she can't help but grin, "Well if I /do/ manage to be the death of you, I'll consider it as an accomplishment. Though to achieve that…." Here she pauses a bit while her hands, now empty of tubers reach down into a pocket before re-emerging with a white knot. The object is dangled in the air in front of him as she tilts her head to the side, "…you'll need to stay within optimal distance of stalking. What do you say?"

Mutual laughter: it really is the best thing ever. Sorry other passengers, but that's just how it be sometimes. He'll probably remember their faces well enough to slip them something nice if they stop into the restaurant he works at, though. Where did his green firelizard go? She's fine; she's stealth-sashayed her way onto the tray to pilfer the remains of a sausage roll. It'll take a few more passes of his palms over his eyes to get most of the laughter-tears away, but that's okay. Isaija lets out a low, slow hiss of breath, like steam being vented, and ends it with a 'whooo' of release. "Well, if working in a kitchen doesn't do me in, then you might," Isaija quips with a easy grin. "Though, that look on your face- oh, that would have done it, I think, if my eyes weren't watering." But, oh. Wait. She's digging around in a pocket and his curiosity is roused. "Weyrwoman. Are- are you asking me to Stand?" Wide eyes are mostly for comic effect. "You're the first to ever ask, you know," he adds, glancing from her face to the knot, then back again - and holding on her face. "Of course, I'll accept!" Muttered aside: "… even if I suspect the head cook put you up to this to bring me back."

Reya can't help but grin broadly at the reaction, her eyes lighting up with just a hint of mischief. She looks from him, down at her clothes, and then back to him. "Well yes, I don't think I've been taken over by any kind of mind control! Plus it's the best way to leech your life force." Wait what? "Honestly though, we think you're a good fit." There's a bright peal of laughter from her now and an outright whoop of delight when he accepts, though perhaps her next words will put his mind at ease. "We'll be having most of the candidates work at the resort, like Barnaby, instead of doing typical chores though. We kind of need all hands on deck with how busy it is." And they /are/ quite busy.

There's definitely some side-eye for that leeching of life force commentary - but, clearly, Isaija's not about to fight her for it. He has life to spare! Or he's just that confident. As for the 'we' talk, well; he's been around riders enough to know where to really pin the blame this time. Not that he's complaining! "Well, now! You are a woman of superior taste, so I will trust your judgment on- well, all of it. And if I can keep working at the restaurant, all the better. I just got the spice racks organized." He'll accept that knot with happiness, of course, though forgive him for marveling at it just a bit. He's serious as he adds, "Whatever the Weyr needs me to do, I'll do, of course. That's what this means." It also means he's going to go in for a hug, if she'll allow it; he's just that happy right now.

Reya refuse a hug? Not a chance! She'll return it with a fair amount of force. "We /do/ have good taste. /Great/ taste in fact." Whic is why she's snugging another pastry after the hug. "Really though," and for once there's none of that craziness or cheekiness, "I think it'll be a good experience for you and for Monaco. You just keep working at the restaurant, organize all 400 spice racks." She obviously knows nothing about the spice racks, "It's going to be a wild ride though. Don't forget…you're at Monaco now." Ominous? It could be, but she looks more happy than threatening! Banter will likely carry on throughout the rest of the cruise, and she'll get yelled at more by the boat operator, but by the end of it all Isaija will have -100 snacks and +1 white knot it seems!

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