"I'll have to think of a terribly punny name for them." She does an underwater barrel roll and comes up again. She forgets, fairly often, how nice it is to be able to move. She's not just floating or swimming, she's dancing, some instinctive dance that only her bones know the steps to.

She pops her head back up again. "Platies. Like the little orange fish but, you know, they go on plates."

Although as she ducks back under again, it does seem like the cutlery is getting a bit more aggressive. And while the spoons are fine, she sees a school of serrated knives make a turn for them thirty feet away.

"Doc, it might be time to get back onto shore, don't you think?" She strokes back to the dinghy and holds out a hand to help him back up before she rescues herself from the platies.