if more of us valued food and cheer and song

[goodfella]

Robin prefers his regular staff. They're regular for a reason, after all. They're regular because they work the most like him, do the best, learn the fastest, and he likes them. He trusts them more. The fact remains that they all get two days off a week, and sometimes they get sick. Sometimes they need a personal day. If the reason is good enough, or the lie is fanciful enough, he lets it slide.

Not getting paid is punishment enough, mostly, to Robin.

"Take it back to the kitchen," he tells his server. "And when you get there, ask him if that looks med-rare to him. If he says yes, tell his ass he's fired, immediately, and he can leave his apron here. I need people in the kitchen who know what to do with a piece of beef. Especially a piece of beef."

Considering the sort of clientele that Semele's served -- varied -- it was seldom a good idea to serve an overcooked piece of meat. They might start looking elsewhere, for something a bit fresher. Violence is verboten on the premises, of course, but it doesn't hurt to make sure it never enters the equation, either. No matter Robin's opinion on werewolves and their many related ilk.

Comments

[goodfella]

"You are a spirit," Robin observes. Many paien spirits who had no bodies of their own were parasites by nature, living off other bodies (though not always controlling them.) Darkling had been a particularly nasty example, worthy of a little mental mouth-frothing. Robin had never heard of a case such as this, though. For all intents, Nuriko would seem to be a human soul, possessing another body.

That he had never heard of.

"Don't try," Robin urges. He likes a gamble as well as the next man, but he prefers continued survival over chance-taking. For himself, and for those he has taken a shine to. "Unless there is no other alternative, I mean. It is just probably not worth the risk. You do love ice cream, after all, and I like having servers."

[willowed]

For the most part, Nuriko agrees. Her actions probably will, if nothing else; the biggest risk seems to be one where expelling herself might leave her a spirit that most can't see or interact with. It isn't the food she's after so much as companionship. A life where her voice can't be heard by those around her isn't much of an existence.

Briefly, she wonders if Robin would still be able to interact with her, were she to lose corporeal form.

"I won't try for now," she says, expression briefly conflicted. "But what happens if that's the only way for me to get out of this place? I'm supposed to be recycled soon, you know. Starting another life. Now I'm caught in this strange in-between."

[goodfella]

"Good," Robin says quickly, poking at the last bite of the steak on the plate and shuffling it through the red juices.

The mention of being recycled lifts his green eyes. It should startle him less, but he has spent too much of his life in the last few thousand years chiefly (and blissfully) in the clutches of a Western human civilization. The idea of reincarnation went largely out of fashion among those sort of people some time ago.

For someone like Nuriko, it must not have.

"To live such a liminal existence is no doubt very difficult. Having a beginning and end is more or less your birthright. I do ... feel for you."

He leaves it at that, not skilled by effusive expression of such attachment. Not practiced for some time, and easily exhausted. But he wants her to know it. That he understands, perhaps better than she might guess.

[willowed]

She stares for a bit, and perhaps it shouldn't be surprising that Robin understands. At least, he's bound to conceptualize it more clearly than the standard human would, having been exposed and choosing to expose himself still to so many different creatures and their ways of living. But it's also not the typical bright-toothed smile that he shares, nor the heated temper that flares quietly on occasion; instead, Nuriko files it away as something new, probably not often exposed, and thus to be cherished.

"Oi, boss, who knew that you were such a feeling guy," she exclaims with a sudden grin, reaching out to pat him heavily on the shoulder — heavily, at least, for a human. "Gosh, the way you're looking at me now, you'd think that you were a relative of mine! Family. Or maybe even a former lover, goodness. You know how to make a girl blush."

In spite of her light tone, there's genuine gratitude in her smile, cheeks flushed a pretty rose.

She doesn't really need the sympathy, but it's certainly nice to have.