At the heart of this set up was Madam Arizona with her pristine white cap and a massive ladle in her hand. At least it was huge compared to her stature.
"Alice, I said only three turns. If you keep at it that stew will be half cooked. And so will you when I get hold of you. And Johan, tell me my nose is fooling me. If those onions are burnt you should also be."
She looked like she was coordinating an orchestra of cooks. Only instead of violins and music sheets, hers made use of ladles, knives and a horde of ingredients.
The result was a heavenly aroma that had my stomach reminding me that I still had breakfast waiting in my chambers.
We had been standing there almost an entire minute before she noticed our presence.
"By God's!" she swore almost collapsing. "You startled me half dead, sir." She began before catching sight of our guests.
"Oh jolly, jolly. Finally someone with some sense. I have always been saying that someone should hire me some brownies." She went on beaming at the three guests.
"I train my staff best I can, but it is common knowledge no one comes close to brownies in a kitchen. And you did it, sir, and in your first day no less."
Oh oh. That was now an overkill. I was almost expecting my first three guests to storm out of the place screaming curses but to my surprise they were actually beaming right back at her.
"They are our guests, Madam Arizona," I said, suddenly bursting her temporary bubble.
She looked at me then at the three smiling creatures as if she expected one of us to bust out laughing and declare it a joke.
Eventually she seemed to finally catch up to the fact that she had jumped her guns. To her credit though, when she did, she wasted no time with apologies that would have only made the situation even worse.
"Oh. In that case, do feel more than welcomed in my kitchen."
There was a long table in one corner of the spacious kitchen where she now ushered the three brownies toward.
There were long stools which seemed to be a preferred seat among the residents. I had noticed they could easily jump up and down without looking clumsy at all.
However, expecting the same level from unaccustomed guests would have been a disaster.
But as it turned out, there was a solution for that as well. One of the catering staff rushed to place three smaller stepping stools, much to my relief.
"Fresh baked bread and a warm bowl of fresh milk coming right up," Madam Arizona announced without even waiting for the guests to make their order.
"Standard offering to brownies," she whispered to me with a smile before her face suddenly grew serious.
"Oh no, sir. I do not think we have any honey left." She said it as if it spelled doomsday.
Then I remembered the system hospitality guide. It had also mentioned honey as part of the brownies offering.
"Well. Can't we get some more?" I asked, confident that it was a small matter. I mean this was a magical hotel so if you need something you just got it.
"Well. Honey is food, sir. We cannot just make it here."
Crap. Yes, now I remembered Maya mentioning it. "How fast can Ramon get it?"
Madam Arizona gave me a patient, almost empathetic look like that was hardly the point.
"Almost instantly," she said, "but you would have to redeem some soul points into human cash first."
"Soul points?" I whispered as if I had never heard the term before.
Of course I very well knew what they were. Soul points were the currency Midstreet customers paid for any goods or services within its premises.
The trouble was I had none. Not a single point. These were my first customers. They were supposed to pay me my first points.
I had not told them. But I had figured I did not need to. I mean they had said it themselves. It was not their first time coming to Midstreet, therefore they had to know the price and the currency here.
I took a quick glance toward the table where our guests were waiting patiently, chattering eagerly among themselves. As they observed the activity going on around them, they were clearly too engrossed to notice we had some sort of problem.
Damn them. Must they really have their honey? I mean we could just add some sugar in their milk and they can dip their bread. After all, sweetness must be what they want.
"Wait," I said, turning to Madam Arizona. "Tell me we have some jam."
She shook her head almost instantly. "Plenty of it, sir, but I am afraid brownies do not..."
"I will take the chance," I said, cutting her off. "Get me the bread and the jam."
I was already heading toward a sink. By the time I was done cleaning my hands a tray with a thick boxy bread fresh from the oven was on the serving table.
The rest of the staff were going on about their business around us such that the guests could not see what I was doing right away.
Madam Arizona soon appeared with a large tin of jam.
"Knife and a spoon please," I said, retrieving the tin from her. Someone handed it to her and she passed it looking a bit uncomfortable.
"Let me do that, sir," she protested, but I would not hear any of it.
"I've got this ," I told her with a gentle Smile although it didn't look like it.
I neatly cut the fresh bread into three equal pieces before covering them with almost an inch of pure jam.
"Sir. This is..."
"Exactly what they want," I completed her sentence for her.
Of course what she had meant was completely worlds apart and her face said as much, but she did not press it.
"Is their milk ready?" I asked and she immediately jumped into action.
"Alice. Fresh milk, slightly warm."
"Ready, ma'am," the one named Alice said, already wheeling a small flat top trolley with three bowls half full of milk toward us.
I placed the sliced pieces of bread on separate plates and laid them on the trolley.
"Thank you, Alice. I will take it from here."
Madam Arizona was already about to complain but I beat her to it.
"If they feel like smearing it on someone's face, it should be mine."