Thread: [Pokémon OPEN] Off The Menu [T] [IC]
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Old March 28th, 2017 (2:22 PM). Edited May 4th, 2017 by Afterglow Ampharos.
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Afterglow Ampharos Afterglow Ampharos is offline
Ampharos are the ultimate kid's bed. They have a built in nightlight and everything.
     
    Join Date: Jul 2016
    Location: trapped in Toby Fox's web of influence
    Age: 28
    Gender: Male
    Nature: Careful
    Posts: 671

    Slick


    “Very well, sir,” Cadbury replied, noting the urgency in Carmine’s phrasing. He was already headed across the Dining Room with a brisk step. Though he was rarely too busy to refuse a polite “Good evening, madam,” to the purple-furred guest he passed on the way.

    Though he’d already passed her by, the Linoone lifts his nose, nostrils flaring. “Hm. Peculiar perfume on that one,” he remarked to himself quietly.

    As he approached the bar and greeted Jean-Georges with a similar good evening, the Octillery returned it with an apologetic look in his eye.

    “Not to worry, I’m not here to reprimand you.” Cadbury and Jean-Georges had already formally met, back when the Octillery started work here. He struck Cadbury as someone who was enthusiastic about working, but inexperienced in many ways. His attitude was just fine, however.

    “Has Carmine already filled you in about what’s needed of you?”

    Jean-Georges’s expression lightened up, but he shook his head no.

    “Alright. If you’re anything like me, you’re proud of the work you’ve been doing as a busboy, but are eager to take on a little more responsibility, a less minor task.”

    The busboy’s eyes brightened as they looked at Cadbury, and he gave a quick nod.

    Cadbury grinned at his apparent excitement. “Good! Come out from behind the bar, then. I’m going to run you through some training on waiting tables.”

    With the popping sound of multiple suction cups in movement, the cephalopod climbed up and over the counter of the bar, joining Cadbury on the other side.

    “...Alright,” the butler said after a short pause, pushing down the urge to wince. “I understand you’re excited, but in the future, climbing over any form of furniture is a definite no,” he said, his tone firm but hopefully not severe.

    “Come,” he beckoned, moving to the nearest empty table in the Dining Room. His claws had already reached inside an inner pocket of his waiter’s jacket, the one in “Finer Things Staff green,” the one matching the bow-tie haphazardly secured around the Octillery’s neck. Cadbury would be inclined to call his apparel a deep stromboli green, but that word didn’t mean much to most of the people he conversed with.

    He held out a small notepad with tear-out pages, as well as a pen. A good pen, at that, not a cheap variety. “Here you are. You can--”

    Cadbury stopped himself. He was about to ask “You can write, can’t you?” but he had just realized how rude that sounds, especially if the Octillery can. Just because he grew up in a colony, and only recently grew tentacles, Cadbury couldn’t assume the worst of him. Still, Cadbury needed to find a way to ask the question while still being sensitive.

    “How quick is your note-taking skill, Jean-Georges?” Cadbury asked, settling on a comfortable rephrasing. “Do you think you can write down the customers’ orders as they come?”

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