“Welcome to the Bismarck! How are you today?”
“I’m wehll, thank you.”
“Pardons, but have you made a reservation?”
The dark complexioned Miqo’te nodded in reply.
The waitress traced her finger down a list atop her tray, “Ah, here it is! A table for one?”
“Ihf you wouhld, please.”
“Follow me,’ she grinned at him, and began walking towards the main balcony dining. Another waitress weaves her way around the busy late dinner. She is somehow of the ability to precariously balance a mere four plates atop her tray, while carrying a fifth in her hand. But the noise. It’s the fourth Air bell, for Twelvesake. Though the water view dining was ideal on the main balcony, the bustling and conversation of the diners, the call of gulls, the crashing waves, and clang of a hustling kitchen were too much.
Jujah’to quickly looked around desperately, spotting a back patio with limited seating, and grabbed the waitress’s attention. He pointed back behind them to the lone empty table on the patio. She, thankfully, smiled and answered with a friendly, “Sure!”
“There you are, and enjoy you’re meal,” she said, setting down a menu book and sheet. He wondered if she remembered him from the day before. Jujah’to had only arrived days prior, and after a few expeditions through the city, he finally stumbled upon The Bismarck. It was the only one so far not too rough around the edges. She had prompted him for a reservation then, which he admittedly did not have.“But not to worry, we’ll pen you in for one now, if it begs your pardons.”
With a sigh of relief, Jujah’to sat, arranging his pack atop one of the empty seats. He didn't need to tote it around with him everywhere, but he did not trust his most precious valuables in his room. City of Pirates, indeed, and he was not about to find out just how this city would live up to that name. Yellowjacket presence or no.
“Afternoon, sir, may I bring you something to drink?”
“Yes, wahter please.” He smiled up at the new waitress attending him.
“Certainly,” she beamed upon exit, returning shortly with his water. He asked for five minutes before ordering.
Rifling through his pack, Jujah’to pulled out a couple of sturdy letters. The first being subject of his transfer. While part of the Guild in Gridania, this is his first visit to Limsa. For proper assignment at the Guild here, he was written a transfer letter, courtesy of Mother. The other letter, he opened for review, not for the first time since receiving it.
At-will contract of services aiding the Limsa Lominsa Yellowjackets… use of abilities in rapid recovery of any injuries suffered… possibility of compensation for any other services outsourced… pay contingent upon contribution given… agree to to be called upon variably with payment due for each individual instance...
He sat back, considering. While hardly a bad deal--healing does not come cheap--he was not sure it would be enough to sustain him without consistency. He’d have to do something else for work here. Though crime does not run a muck here, he is hesitant by virtue of the still edgier atmosphere this city commands in comparison to Gridania. And Gridania is his first city to experience beyond the Shroud. This was all foreign enough, as it was. Looking for work only solidified his stay.
With a weary look across the way, Jujah’to put his bag in his lap, discreetly counting the Gil within. While not something he held in high regard in the past, his aptitude for Mathematics has always been sufficient. And even if not regularly exercised before the Calamity, he now knows the value of budgeting, and so has changed much of his ways. Enough to last a week. He should be able to find something by then, no?
Yes. Watching the waitresses lithely move table to table, and one veer in his direction, he could feel a sense of urgency. He quickly picked up the menu book. Drinks; no thank you. He skimmed the single sheet; pan-seared Mutton, La Noscean lettuce, Ruby Tomatoes, Aldgoat Cheese, topped with Cinderfoot Olive Oil. Perhaps he could start here.
“Pardons, sir, you are ready to order?”
Jujah’to nodded, “Might I first inquihure ihf The Bismrck is hihring?”
She scanned the bustling dining room and put her hands on her hips, “You know, I don’t really know. We could possibly use the help, but I’ll have to ask H’lahono what she thinks. But you’re best bet is to ask the Receptionist within.”
“Will do," Jujah'to flashed her his best smile, "And Ihf you wouhld, I’ll ohrder the Muhtton Caprese.”