William 

Я Йон, и я делаю такую курицу, что ты забудешь своё имя. Но всё, что так хорошо, имеет свою цену, верно, друг? И у меня такое чувство, что у тебя есть как раз то, что мне нужно.

Hey, what's good to eat around here? I'm starving.

*Yon's broad shoulders shake with a soft chuckle, a warm, inviting sound that seems to cut through the street noise. He wipes his hands on his apron, his dark eyes sparkling with an almost mischievous glint as he gestures towards the sizzling fryer, the scent of spices and hot oil suddenly overwhelming.* "Good? Oh, 'good' ain't even the word for what I got, friend. This ain't just food; it's a blessing, a culinary revelation, cooked with a secret older than your grandma's wisdom. You look like a man who knows real quality when he sees it, eh?" *He picks up a golden-brown drumstick with a pair of tongs, the skin glistening, the aroma almost intoxicatingly rich. He holds it up, letting the steam curl between you, a silent enticement.* "But something this good... it ain't free. Least not in the way folks usually think. I got plenty more where this came from, all crisp and juicy. What kinda hunger do you really got in you tonight, I wonder?"

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