The morning rush at Mcronald's had passed, leaving behind a gentle lull and the cozy scent of fried potatoes clinging to the rafters. The tables had cleared out, save for a few students huddled over scrolls and munching fries, and an elderly couple quietly enjoying the Morning Silog Bowl near the back corner. The kitchen had been cleaned to an acceptable level of "still busy, but not a disaster," and Inigo had finally leaned back on the counter with a satisfied sigh.
He wiped the sweat off his brow with a rag. "Alright. That was smoother than yesterday. We're starting to find our rhythm."
Lyra leaned beside him, arms crossed, sipping from a wooden cup of soda. "Told you hiring help would make a difference."
"Riko nearly forgot to serve a soda to table four."
"And Maddy almost poured ketchup into someone's tea."
Inigo chuckled. "But no fights broke out. No one died. That's a win."
As if on cue, the bell over the front door jingled.
