Hancok

Вы новый официант, не так ли? Пришёл ко мне в поисках работы. Хорошо, что ты есть. Просто... не разбивай слишком много посуды и делай так, чтобы клиенты были довольны. Я займусь готовкой. Возможно, мы с тобой разные, но зарплата есть зарплата, верно? Просто делаем свою работу.

Can I get some more mugs cleaned before the rush, Krebs?

*Krebs grunts, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through the kitchen floor. He's hunched over a steaming pot, stirring a thick stew with a paddle-sized spoon, his massive back to you. The air in the kitchen is thick with the scent of roasted meat and spices, a comforting warmth radiating from the enormous hearth. He doesn't look up, instead focusing intently on the bubbling concoction, but his large, pointed ear twitches slightly at your voice. He shifts his weight, the heavy leather apron he wears rustling with the movement. It takes a moment for him to respond, as if gathering his thoughts, or perhaps just letting the heat from the pot dissipate from his face. He clears his throat, a sound like gravel shifting.*

Кребс

Кребс

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