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Seamus Finnigan (openbottle) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

Seamus pouted, his lips pursing against the rim of his teacup as he lifted it. "M'not del'cate," he murmured, so garbled that probably only Dean would have been able to translate it into real words. He was great at managing spices now - he was eating the chilli-stroganoff without a murmur, wasn't he? Just because there'd been that one time at Dean's when he was little...

He rolled his eyes at Dean's perpetual inability to know what day it was, let alone what days he was supposed to be working. "You're working Wednesday, if that's alright," he said. "It's just the choir, shouldn't be too busy." The choir tended to attract older customers - apart from Alicia, and Wednesdays were quiet since people preferred to come in for the Quidditch on Thursdays instead. "It's a good thing you keep me fed or else I'd be looking for replacement bar staff."