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Chores, she could handle. A lot of the other stuff not so much, with all the weird terms and fancy techniques and having to be inside. Chores, on the other hand, usually were done outdoors and involved a good amount of physical labor which suited Fisher just fine. When she was handed a scrub brush and told to go clean a ledge, she initially gulped but sucked it up as she headed towards her destination.

Thankfully it wasn't as high up as she thought, and also she wasn't going to be alone. It was significantly easier to do things and ignore falling to her untimely demise if there was someone else there. Someone who could fall first maybe, or would just distract her from her worries. Plus, most of all, Fisher liked chores. They passed the time, kept her from being idle, and she rotated her shoulders she braced herself for what was to come.

What she didn't expect was......whatever it was she saw, and it was with an audible "wuh" that she took in the ledge that needed to be clean. "And...here I thought livin' with my dads was filthy." The comment was said aloud as she looked towards her supposed helper, someone who was staring off into the sky rather than actually cleaning. "You my help today?"

"From the looks of it, probably somethin' you don't do 'round civilized company." Fisher shifted from foot to foot, trying hard to keep her mind off the shoes that covered her feet. The stones were dirty, shoes would help keep her from getting Faranth knows what on them, but her legs felt heavy. It was miserable, but this stranger didn't need to know that and they just needed to clean. "I've seen worse though, at some ports. People can be just as nasty if they wanna."

Slowly she pushed the scrub brush onto the ground and started to push, attempting to clean off at least the top layer of grime on her first go. When was the last time thing place was properly cleaned? If the ship had ever gotten dirty like this everyone would have gotten sick, or it'd damage the wood. The carelessness of these weyrfolk was astounding. Or maybe with all this Thread happening they just didn't have time, but if they loved their dragons as much as people said they did why would they allow it to get like this?

Oh, also. "....m'name's Fisher, nice to meet'cha." Fisher continued to scrub away, debating if they needed to pour water on the top to loosen up whatever was there. "......are they just expectin' us to clean this off with only brooms? Do we get any other kinda tools?"

". . . . .you gotta be kiddin' me." Fisher had taken to scrubbing, it wasn't all that bad, when she looked up just in time to see her chore partner take a dive. Thankfully not off the ledge, or else he'd be well on his own (Fisher couldn't fly and therefore was not jumping too follow), but just a pile on the filthy ground. If the teen wasn't so faintly concerned over what just happened she'd likely mock him for landing on a clearly disgusting surface. " . . . . "

When he failed to get up, and thus proved he wasn't faking it nearly as much as she thought, Fisher felt a small bit of worry creep up her spine. She'd just arrived at this weyr less than a sevenday ago, she didn't know where anything was or where anyone was for that matter, and now she was saddled with an unconscious individual by the name of Torin. What exactly was she supposed to do now? Leave him? Run and get help, like some sort of wherry-headed maiden?

Neither option seemed too feasible, and he did look rather petite when compared to Fisher's own physique, and so the teen made up her mind to just take him with her as she tried to figure out where the healers were. Setting her scrub brush against a wall, the blonde carefully knelt down and lifted Torin into her arms. He was a little heavier than she previously estimated, but nothing she couldn't handle. Honestly he weighed less than the sacks of fish she toted on and off the boat (smelled better, too) and so she shifted him into a carry where one arm was beneath his legs, the other supporting his torso.

". . . .I'll come back for those, I guess." If she tried hard enough Fisher supposed she'd be able to get the cleaning supplies but delaying possibly meant this kid could get worse. So, with a huff, she started her adventure of finding where the shards the healers infirmary was.

Fisher has absolutely no idea where she needed to go. It wasn't like anyone offered to give her a tour when she arrived at the Weyr, and if someone had shown her she probably already forgot. Asking for help was an option, but this wasn't an emergency and she didn't want anyone making a super big deal out of something as small as someone collapsing during chores. Really, it wasn't like he was throwing up or bleeding - he was just pathetic. That was Fisher's opinion, of course, as she didn't know this kid from Faranth but, uh.

The fact she had to carry him after they'd been working for less than a tenth of a candlemark did not bode well on their future relationship. How did this guy expect to be anything if he couldn't even do simple chores? He did smell good though, and Fisher shifted him in her arms as she continued to attempt to find the infirmary all while skirting away from crowds of people. "You gonna wake up any time soon? I don't want to have to dump you somewhere and have some find you." She felt faintly obligated to make sure he was safe, or at least given to someone who could take care of him.

The shifting in her arms got Fisher's attention, as did the sudden talking. Glancing down, a faint smile spread over her lips at Torin's apparent embarrassment. "Oh ho, good mornin'." Moving so that Torin could stand on his on, the teen set her coworker down and used her hands to dust herself off. "You feelin' a bit better? That sudden drop you did had me feelin' nervous, seein' as I don't know my way 'round here." It really was a loud off her shoulders to see him moving, apparently no worse for the wear.

There was also a bit of humor in her thoughts and expression, seeing as this boy seemed to carry himself with an unknown pride that would not allow him to ignore what had happened. A simple mistake of someone getting overworked, fainting from exhaustion - Fisher'd seen those things all the time on the boat. Nothing at all to be ashamed of, but maybe wherever Torin had come from made him think differently.

"Are you okay to keep movin'? You can lean on me until we get you somewhere you can sit, or get a drink or somethin'."

"...yeah that's probably for the best. Like I said before, I dunno my way 'round yet and when you dropped on me I was sorta thinkin' 'bout dumpin' you somewhere." There was no hint of sarcasm in her voice, just brutal honesty as Fisher looked down at the young man. He did seem better, or at least his voice was stronger, but she wasn't holding out hope that he'd be well enough for an actual tour. Part of her prepared to catch him again should he fall and this time she really would just toss him in an open place.

It wouldn't make her a bad person, the Weyr was crawling with people and it wouldn't be too long before someone found him. A good enough reason, yeah, and so she wouldn't feel bad. "Lead the way then, but take it easy. You dropped pretty hard an' even if you're feelin' okay you don't wanna be pushin' it." Fisher had a hand out just in case, ready to steady him with that first step he took. When the second seemed better her hand lowered a bit but was still ready to catch at a moment's notice.

"Actually we just toss 'em overboard and hope the water's cold enough to wake 'em up." Fisher didn't miss a beat in her response, following along the much smaller candidate like a reverse waterfowl parade. The chick leading the mother, as it were. "Thankfully all'a'us know how to swim so the chances for drownin' are slim, but still you gotta be ready to jump in." Was she being serious? The fact that Fisher's tone didn't even change in the slightest perhaps gave credit she wasn't making up lies, and her eyes didn't show a hint of merriment or other betrayal. "You...don't look like you know how to swim very well."

His skin was too clean, too pure like the dolls she'd sometimes see in port. Glass, they'd been called, some sort of weird P-word which Fisher translated to mean entirely too expensive and pointless. Her dads never bothered buying it anyway and the one time she was given something it broke after one round of wrestling. Seriously, what a waste.

"I was born in the waters, never been much for land or small places like this. Dunno how you folks handle this without flippin' on."