The next morning, Marley strode across the wraparound porch of the mess hall at five am, yawning and simultaneously putting her coffee brown hair up in a messy ponytail. She was dressed in what the head cook requested, dark pants, dark shoes and a plain t-shirt that she didn't mind getting ruined. She rubbed the misting under her hazel eyes that usually came along with waking up early, shoving at the swinging back screen door with her hip and entering the main kitchen area. It was all stainless steel and black floor tiles, large, gleaming prep counters and industrial kitchen appliances whirring and humming in the silence. There were three large, connected sinks with a hanging spray hose being operated by an attractive, muscled guy wearing a wife beater, his back turned and his hair a dark
