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Tully gave one of the table tops another vigorous swipe with a cleaning rag, stared at it for a moment or two, and then swiped it again several more times, though at this point, any crumbs left were entirely in his head.

It was a short lull in the day, though it would pick up again when it got closer to lunch, and then drop off after most people's jobs let out for the day, save for an smattering of tired, hungry people stopping in to make a quick purchase at the counter for the high calorie treats that they felt they deserved after eight hours of mindless labor.

Business had been hopping lately, and they were short on staff, which meant he, personally, had to do a lot more hopping, and that was getting old fast. You didn't have to be old to start feeling the strain of being on your feet all day, and he'd ended up taking a serving shift from one of their part timers when it turned out that the young girl had aptitude for the register, but none at all for making sure plates went to their respective owners. Her brain was a steel trap for numbers, but faces whisked through like they were on a tight schedule and had to be somewhere else.

Even better... she'd just given her two weeks notice, off to school or a job... he hadn't payed much attention to the excuse, just the fact that they were loosing a marginally useful set of hands.

So the result, after the usual argument with Connor, was an 'help wanted' add in the window, in a visible but not 'in your face' placement. Cheaper than trying to get a slot in the paper, and Con had pointed out that it would at least mean that the candidate was probably someone who at least walked past the shop occasionally, if not necessarily a patron.

It was worth a shot anyway, or it had seemed that way when he'd posted it. There still hadn't been any applications though, and he was beginning to reconsider spending the money for an add in the paper. It was probably, he debated, cheaper than the money he'd be shelling out to replace his shoe inserts every few days.

The bells on the door chimed as Writ entered. and Tully glanced up, blinking. After some of the things he'd been seeing lately, Writ was on the low end of the surprising, but the ears were still surprising. Not as surprising as a feather mohawk... but pretty surprising. He blinked twice, then tucked the rag into the strap of his apron.

"Hi, Can I help you?"

After Con's run in with the BirdMan, (and his own) he wondered if this odd young man was another customer, and... well... a Customer was a customer. Especially if they were taking them away from the Godsend.

"...Sorry. Jon Tully, Welcome to the Jubilee." The latest events had rattled his hospitality slightly, and this guy at least hadn't tried to pet him yet. "What can I do for you?"

Well... that was... honest. Tully blinked at Writ as he digested this mix of fact and arrogance, wondering if the kid had thought to note that telling someone that 'no one else' wanted to hire them probably wasn't the best way to go about getting hired.

"You've got experience working in a restaurant, or... you've got generic experience?" Tully prompted. Sore feet must have been affecting his brain, he decided, since he hadn't run the kid out on one of his big pointy ears. "Since there's a bit of a difference."

He also suspected Connor would get a kick out of this guy, (which was probably a bad thing). Connor tended to find people with this sort of personality somewhat more amusing than Tully himself did, but it didn't hurt that Con also found Tully's exasperation and annoyance funny.

" Well if anything catches fire here it won't be our cooks fault." Tully pointed this out, levely, raising an eyebrow. So the kids dad owned the place? Interesting, though it raised some questions on his qualifications. Parents could be a bit... biased.
"Con's colorful but he's definitely not careless."

This was also meant as a sort of subtle warning. As his CoOwner, Connor was pretty much above firing, and he'd worked with him long enough to know his partners issues and quirks.

"Tell you what." Tully narrowed his eyes slightly, sizing up the unusual young man. He wasn't too sure about hiring a gene modder, but then again he was even less sure about giving Quinn even the slightest edge. The other one wasn't so bad... but Quinn... Brr. Quinn.
"We'll give you a trial period. We'll give you an week, we'll see how you fit in, and then we'll sit down and talk about how well you fit."

Connor wasn't, he imagined, going to be thrilled about Tully giving Writ an trial period without talking it over, but Writ had touched a nerve and he felt slightly more backed into a corner now, thinking about what it would be like if he couldn't land another pair of hands around here.

His loafers would -devour his feet-. And then they would start working up to his shins and knees, and other parts of his body he considered extremely valuable.

"Can you run a register?" Tully groaned, urged on by the throbbing of his feet. He remembered how he'd felt looking at a espresso machine for the first time, the intimidating hiss and gurgle of the steamer, and trying to learn how to pack the grounds perfectly, and steam the milk without burning it or splattering milk everywhere. "The complicated stuff we can start on tomorrow, before or after hours. Otherwise I just need someone to help me clear the tables and wipe them down right now."