Swamped

You get the feeling that if you find out what that name means, it'll explain a lot. So there's no need to take further risks. You've got an excuse for being here, might as well milk it for what it's worth.

About ten minutes of peeling later, the cook finally returns, looking really annoyed.

"It turns out the navigator's sick," he grumbles. "Which meant I had to report that someone rang a bell without permission, and then the Captain had some questions for me." He glances over at you. "You're a bit slow on those carrots, Sally."

"I missed the cutting board and had to spend a little time looking for it. Turned out it was right at the cleaning station and I'd just overlooked it. Then it took me a little while to find my pace."

The chef shakes his head.

"Never mind. I'll take care of the rest later. That's still a decent help, I should only be a minute or two behind schedule. Long as there's no trouble with the plates..."

He suddenly realizes what he said.

"Bowls, I mean," he corrects himself quickly. "Plates ain't until tomorrow night, I'm just not thinkin' clearly right now."

"Glad I could help," you say, walking towards the door. Best to get out before anything gives you away.

"Oh, hang on, just one thing before you go," he says. "Got a question for you."