Nerys knows the guy--Thor, she thinks his name is--from passing, knows from the meeting he doesn't speak much Standard, though he's doing far better than she did for her first few months with it. She listens carefully, nodding and taking the pans from him. "I'll be right back," she says clearly over the sound of the water, "Thank you, I'll be careful."

The water's up to her knees, and she wishes like hell that she'd thought to roll up her scrubs before just barging in, but thus ever has been Kira Nerys. Turning, she pauses, and looks over her shoulder, needing to add something. "You be careful too," she calls, and then staggers out onto the path with the pans, taking them up to drier, higher ground.

The flood seems to have almost come out of nowhere, and that will worry Nerys later, she knows, but right now she has a task. Wringing out the legs of her scrubs, she rolls them back up past her knees, wincing at the clamminess of the fabric, before heading back into the house. They're fortunate it's daylight, for it's dark enough inside as it is, hard to tell what to take and what not to.