"Is Central the most common language? Actually, whatever is spoken most on the round you'll be dropping me off. Please."

"I mean, most people will speak most things, but Central's got the widest spread, yeah." She tips her head and takes a deep breath and sings.

"I want a lover with eyes like a star
With fingers that dance when they spin
With a smile that draws every eye to her face in whatever room she is in*
I want a lover with wits like a vine
Who sings like the daydream she is
Who awakens anew and leaps on me at once with her eagerness now to be mine
And as soon as my lover who's aging
Who's wrinkled and no longer spry
Is buried beside all the past lovers out by the roses, 'twill be time to try
To make myself this perfect lover
Who's beautiful, brilliant and bold,
And if I am better than my wife at this, then she'll love me still when I am old!"

*I tried not to rhyme but it didn't work.

Once again, Danny has the immediate feeling of offness as he listens to her sing. Chesabit's voice is fine, but he has to restrain himself from shifting uncomfortably, and he realizes he's frowning. He quickly schools his expression, not wanting to offend her, but... he's sure there's a better way to sing this, he didn't consider himself a music snob before but it's so obvious even if he can't articulate why...

Still, grating as the song is, he understands the meaning of its words on some deep level that makes it easy to remember each. Not every word translates one to one, there are differences in the languages that make some concepts single words that English would have to stretch into multiple, but he also feels like he's getting the subtle differences in the meaning of the words from English equivalents.

Despite the weirdness of learning a language through song, and the irritation he feels from the unartful rendition, he also still feels warmth creeping up his neck from the subject matter. It's not particularly explicit, but it still manages to be evocative, and make him extra aware of the women on the ship.

He's been trying not to focus on them too much. It's hard to tell if everyone is really as attractive as they seem, or if it's just his unfamiliarity with being around so many people again.

He clears his throat once she finishes, and tries to piece together the words he's learned into a phrase he doesn't mind saying. "I want bread. What room is mine? I, uh, no fortune. Eagerness to try... better fortune. How was that? Did it make sense?"

She winces. "Barely! Are you saying you... understand Central but only if it's a song - I didn't even know that was possible -"

"Yeah, it seems kind of ridiculous to me too, but I..." He almost says don't know how else to explain it, but that wouldn't be true. "I think it's pretty easy to test. Could you..." Ugh, it's actually kind of hard to ask this knowing it'll probably sound off again... "Could you sing more? A different song, uh, maybe not a... love song?"

"Mm-hm, sure." She sings one about beekeeping and collecting honey.

His arms fidget as he listens, trying to ignore the mental stumbling sensations around each verse and focus on the words, which are marginally more likely to be generally practical than the previous song's. "Good morning, I'm eager to labor for room and bread. I'm fearless of bees." 

"Oh, of course you can have some chores on the ship, if you know how, what are your skills?"

What are his skills...?

"I can climb," he says after a few moments of thought. "I can weave nets and tie knots. I've done a lot of hunting and field dressing, though someone would probably have to teach me what's safe to eat or not, or what pelts are worth cleaning. I... don't know if there are pirates around here, or situations where fighting would be valuable, but I've made it through a few."

He tries to think of something else, but most of the skills he's developed over the years in the Hedge aren't likely to be useful here, and before that... "I know some math? And science, though... uh, not all of it might be the same here, I guess. I can make a fire in a few different ways, and cook okay, I think. I made a raft once. I made a hang glider too, but that one didn't go as well. Still, it mostly worked." He shrugs. "I spent the past few years surviving in the woods, basically, and before that a lot of my time was spent reading and... kind of training to survive in the woods, except most of the stuff I had to learn to survive I wasn't taught."

"...okay, and which of those things do you know how to do without gravity?"

"...I'm a fast learner?"

"Okay, let's go see if you can be useful in the galley. Don't even try with the fire, fire on a ship is awful, but you can peel things or something."

Peeling is easy! He's peeled so many things. Some chopping and mashing and grinding, too.

Hm. Those last two probably are harder without gravity.

...what are we peeling/chopping/etc?

The cook, when Chesabit shows Danny to the galley, is doing baked potatoes and (through Chesabit translating) sets Danny to scissoring some scallions to stuff into them, under a bowl shaped to keep at least most of the scallion rings from flying about the room while letting Danny get his hands in there. "We eat a lot of baked potatoes, they're good ship food," volunteers Chesabit, accepting a net full of hot stuffed ones to go distribute to crew members. "Back in a minute."

The ship chorus, which the chef is participating in, is presently about a round that passed through an unusually huge rainstorm and flooded dramatically.

His hands are actually rather nimble, and he wasn't exaggerating when he said he was a fast learner. After a few minutes of trial and error while carefully watching the way the others work, he's not obviously messing up anymore, and a few minutes after that he gets confident enough to even work faster than some of his neighbors are.

It's a little surreal, working with others to do something so casual without having to constantly look over his shoulder. The companionship, and clear sense of comradery, almost makes it fun...

...if not for the singing.

He almost cuts himself a couple times just from the distraction of it, and has to remind himself that at least he's learning the language. He'll be very prepared for all sorts of weather related conversations.

The next song is about different kinds of knots.

This probably isn't worse than having to learn the language normally, though in another couple hours he might change his mind.

He internally crosses his fingers for a song about money, or hunting, or world-traveling-home-seeking-aliens.

By the time the kitchen has stopped slinging baked potatoes and started slinging something like cornbread or tamales (they bake in corn husks, since there's no way to keep them from floating around inside the oven compartments) they have gotten to a song that features somebody's trip to market. It has an improvisational section and sometimes he doesn't hear what has been added to the increasingly unwieldy shopping list till it's been repeated a couple times in the pre-chorus.

Okay, this is better. He's a little surprised that he recognizes all the food being mentioned, and reminds himself not to make too many assumptions. So far the stuff he's handled has been mostly like what he'd expect on earth, though the corn is in colors he's never seen. He hopes he can eat it safely.

By the end of the market song the he's got a headache, or maybe it's the unfamiliar feeling of being in a relatively crowded space. His thoughts are getting scattered every few seconds, and he excuses himself with a few of his new words ("Rest now, return later") and floats his way back up to the ship deck for some fresh air and hopefully a break from the music?

There's a hull, not so much a deck. He can, if he likes, exit to the hull, and tie himself on and watch the rounds and suns.

He'll do that for a bit, yeah.