[attr="class","spiral"]"You may want to bring along some diving gear," she mockingly echoes the older man's warning, voice high and nasal, before tugging at the collar of her much-too-large t-shirt. Doing so exposes a bit of the one piece she's wearing underneath. Its collar sits just below the shirt's and its edges reach over to cover her shoulders and the tops of her arms.

A second later she whips the shirt off over her head before casually shimmying out of her basketball shorts as well.

"My tank is under the bench, but thanks for the heads up dad," she carries on childishly, rolling her eyes before reaching down to pick up the tank in question. She slips it on over her shoulders while the man releases his Sharpedo. It's greeted by a low grumbling from Plank's Carvanha, who backs away instinctively from her evolved counterpart.

"Who's ever died from a few scrapes?" Plank counters the man's reasonable advice that she do something about her bleeding hand, "Hardly the first time I've scratched myself up on Baby, the water'll clean it out."

[attr="class","spiral"]The put-upon rolling eyes and sneering lips on Plank's face are temporarily put away and replaced with a much more smug, self-satisfied expression at the man's words.

"Baby will take care of anythin' else dangerous lurkin' in the water," she says in a proud voice before looking down into the water, "Won't ya, Baby?"

At her call the Carvanha surfaces again, momentarily abandoning the task of side-eyeing the excited Sharpedo to make the closest thing to a cooing sound she can in response to Plank's question. Absolutely! To whatever Plank asked! Admittedly the Carvanha hadn't heard, but her answer to Plank is always yes!

"Of course ya will, my tough girl!" Plank coos back, reaching down to rub at her head fins -- one of the few structures that can be rubbed without causing even more lacerations to her hands. Said rubbing proves to be incredibly distracting, to the point that she doesn't realize the man with her has asked her to do anything until a few seconds after he's finished speaking.

"Oh! Well yeah. Sit your ass down and I'll take us out to the divin' point," she orders before sitting down herself and reaching back to start the engine behind her. Once everyone's seated she gives the throttle a twist and they're on their way out onto the open water.

Baby trails behind close by, easily spotted on account of the yellow fins splitting the water above her.

[attr="class","spiral"]First impressions of this man are low for Plank, what with his nagging and all, but at least he can listen well enough. A good thing for him! She won't entertain insubordinate persons on any ship she's captaining.

For a little while she just basks in the feeling of being on the water. The cool air on her now bare arms and legs, the occasional splash of water droplets on her skin. It's good. It takes the antagonism right out of her.

"Mm, yeah. Pacifidlog," Plank responds simply, eyes on the water instead of her shipmate.

The cigarette smoke in the air only softens her up more. The way it mingles with the smell of salt from the sea . . . it's nostalgic. It's hard to keep from grinning like some kind of idiot at the memories it dredges up.

She lets herself soak in them though, mind somewhere else while her body steers them on autopilot -- making little adjustments to the rudder here and there as they move.

Plank almost misses his follow up, only realizing he's speaking again when he's halfway through his introduction. Where he's from is lost to the wind, but she catches the important bits: Hendrix's name and his pleasantries.

"Folks call me Plank," she replies, "Keep actin' pleasant like this and maybe you'll be a pleasure t' meet yourself."

As she speaks she looks past Hendrix instead of at him, taking in the sight of coral through the water in the distance. That's probably where they're meant to dive down and watch for the Corsola. Shouldn't be too long before they're in position.

[attr="class","spiral"]For all the nothing Plank paid attention to Hendrix while speaking to him, she's intently watching him from the moment he drops that cigarette to the floor of her boat. It's only once he's snuffed it out and put it away that she lets her eyes trail back to the coral.

"Was 'bout t' say that . . ." she grumbles petulantly at his observation, turning off the motor as she does. Following his lead (by pure happenstance! He's not setting the pace or anything!), Plank slips on her own mask and gets her regulator in place. She refuses to remove the mouthpiece, and so accepts and puts on the earbuds Hendrix offers silently.

He will not be getting them back, permission or no.

As Hendrix gets set up to dive, Plank places herself on the edge of the boat as a counterweight. Once he's gone over she shifts some stuff to the other side of the ship as the counterweight for her own dive before slipping on her flippers and dropping in herself. The moment she hits the water her body relaxes.

She takes a breath in through her regulator before removing it and speaking into the water.

"I dunno how these damn earpieces work," she speaks, puts her regulator back in to breath, and then continues, "So if I'm doin' this wrong, tough."

She kicks her way deeper into the water, looks around a little, and then speaks again.

"You got an eye on the Corsola?" God, she sounds ridiculous with the pressure pitching her voice up, but nothing for it.

As she asks the question and puts the mouthpiece back into place her Carvanha joins her. Baby does a few loops around her, bonks her goggles once, and then settles at her side. Plank runs a hand over her headfins while she waits for an answer -- scanning the water for her partner.


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[attr="class","spiral"]"I am relaxed," Plank replies with a sneer. Bubbles rise from her mouth to the distant water's surface as she puts her mouthpiece back in place. This guy is such a pain!

She wraps her hands around Baby's head fins as Hendrix does the same with his Sharpedo. They follow the pair reluctantly. What can she do but follow when he's the one with eyes on the charges?

Watching the mass of Corsola move takes some of the heat out of her frustration. They're really beautiful, especially moving through the natural, multi-colored coral reef around them. It's a breathtaking sight that would be all the better were she here alone.

Hendrix's attempt at small talk initially earns only a side-eye, but eventually she sucks in air through her mouthpiece and temporarily removes it from between her teeth.

"I needed money, so I took this job," regulator goes back in place for another breath, "and I don't stay in Pacifidlog often either way."


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