Kevin was in a particularly foul mood. Half his staff had bowed out of dinner service with seasickness, and he'd grudgingly let most of the rest of them go when they began complaining about missing New Years. He'd stayed behind alone to finish cleaning and to take any orders that might come in from the bar, putting earplugs in to drown out the noise of the pots and pans clanking as the ship rocked. It also killed him to think of how much of his hard work was going to waste, ending up on floors and in toilets.
Kevin had just wandered into the supply room to give himself a quick New Years' break and a smoke when all hell broke loose. Already leaning against the wall, it had only registered what was happening when things began flying off the shelves. "What the-" he said, his eyes wide, his cigarette still unlit in his mouth as he narrowly avoided a flying economy sized can of beans flying at his head. As the ship rocked the other way, he found himself following the displaced cans and other foodstuffs as they rolled quickly to the other side of the room.
Moving forward, he balanced himself in the door frame as the ship rocked again. He'd never been in an earthquake before, much less one at sea, but he'd seen what to do on some documentary about San Fransisco or something like that. From his vantage point, he could just see the chaos going on out in the main dining room. For a moment, he contemplated heading out to try to help, but at that moment the ship shifted again, sending several bottles past him. Grabbing a nearby pan to shield himself, he started running for the doorway as soon as the boat rocked again. Blackthorne, you git, who do you think you are anyways? Bloody Superman or something?