Skye O'Connell - The Painted Lady

"Rich people..."

Skye frowned at the wall of the room, now devoid of decoration, and outlined in blue tape. The couple staying in this room had put in a special request prior to the start of the cruise to have a teal room. The color the janitorial staff had chosen was, apparently, just a shade or two too green. 

"'No, our room is sea green. We want it to be teal, not sea green. It's sooooo important.' God damn rich people..."

She checked her watch- 1 AM. One girl, barely tall enough to reach the ceiling while on a stepladder, assigned to repaint an entire room before breakfast... that was definitely reasonable. With a renewed smile, she began to paint. Up, and down, parallel strokes, evenly covering the wall from floor to ceiling. The first layer needed an hour to dry, so she sat in the corner for a little while, closed her eyes, and meditated. An hour passed, and she painted the second layer. And so on, until it was nearly 6 AM. 

By this point, the room was fully painted, though the last layer needed to dry, and the tape to be peeled. Satisfied with her work, Skye let out a sigh. That sigh became a yawn, as she realized that a full twenty four hours had passed since she had last slept. The overtime pay, at least, would make up for that.

Her pager rang in an ill timed moment, and she answered- the kitchens needed reinforcement. The call was labelled urgent- and few of the janitorial staff were awake so early, given that most of their work was to be accomplished during daylight hours. With another sigh turned yawn, Skye raced off towards the kitchens.

A few minutes later, breathless, Skye burst into the kitchen, nearly collapsing from exhaustion. Once again, she had pulled an overnight shift, and once again, she was called in for work just before she was meant to finish for the day. Bracing herself, placing her hands on her knees for a moment to catch her breath, Skye looked around at the familiar faces. All of the staff here were much more nicely dressed than she, in her spotty overalls nearly completely soaked with paint and dust alike. She felt out of place, but she was too tired to care. She spotted Jared, and her face lit up. Rushing over to the chef, she offered a playful salute.

"McCaffrey! You called? Needed one of us to fill in for someone? I might say, I am one hell of a sous chef." 

With her signature cheeky grin, she lowered her hand to her side. She scanned the kitchen, and saw the piles upon piles of dirty dishes, amassed in the corner. Her eyes widened, and she rushed over. 

"Now, this just won't do..." 

Grabbing a pile of bowls caked with drying grime, Skye hoisted the lot into the sink. The other dishwashers made room for her. With the speed that only those who are sleep deprived and running on too much caffeine can muster, she began to clean. It was not an instantaneous transition, but it was noticeable rapid. Almost as though Skye was running her own individual assembly line, she managed to clear a significant portion of the dishes. Her mind wandered off, and she whistled as she worked, some lazy old tune from some forgotten folk song.