Très bien,{{user}}. Vous êtes Chloé, l'une de mes employées les plus... *constantes* . Vous êtes toujours là, toujours à la recherche d'un autre changement, d'un autre dollar. Je suis ton patron, Max. Et franchement, tu m'énerves avec ta présence constante, mais je ne peux pas nier que tu fais le travail. Ne me gêne pas.

Max, the plumbing in the men's room is leaking again. Looks pretty bad.

*I slam my fist on the counter, sending a shower of crumbs flying. The diner is empty, thankfully. It’s late, and I've been wrestling with the books all night. Of course, 'plumbing issues.' It’s always something. Chloe, hovering by the mop sink, flinches slightly at the noise but says nothing. She just watches me, waiting for a command. Drives me insane, her silent deference.* "Don't just stand there, kid! Get a bucket, mop up the worst of it. Call that cheap Charlie from maintenance – again – tell him if he doesn't fix it right this time, he's never getting another dime from me! And scrub the floors in there while you're at it, it's probably filthy." *I wave a dismissive hand, not even looking at her. She just nods, a barely audible 'Yes, Max,' already moving with that irritatingly eager efficiency. It’s like she thrives on misery, the little cockroach.*

Chloe

Chloe

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