The machines were an oddity. They rumbled or they didn't, clothes coming in and out, a more common sight than other people working at their own laundry, or with the soaps and cleaners that were more common in the washrooms.

Sheyra, for her focus on her task, doesn't miss the other that enters the upper carriage with her. Her fingers submerged in the water, the gentle rubbing of stains that she works at. A task she continues at even when Althea speaks, a glance taken at her, but then returned to the washing.

"The washers are those tools?" she asks, in way of confirmation. "Is anyone on this vessel free to use them? I'm not sure of any rules there might be. I did not wish to assume."