A day later.
The smell of grilled meat and sizzling fries wafted through the air like a homing beacon for the city's hungry. It was back to work again for the two.
"Order seven! Double beef with cheese, no onions, large fries, orange juice!" he called out.
"Got it!" Lyra shouted from the side station, her apron a little crooked and her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was tied back into a short ponytail, and a thin sheen of sweat lined her forehead.
She spun in place, grabbed the magically-cooled pitcher from the freezing chamber, and poured orange liquid into a crystal cup shaped like a goblet. The customer—a dwarf with soot on his face and a miner's helmet—smiled toothily as she handed it over the counter.
"Appreciate it, miss!" he said before waddling toward a booth near the window.
"Next!" Inigo barked, already placing another patty on the grill.
It had been a busy morning.
No staff. Just the two of them.
