Workdays at the resort were sometimes hit or miss. Sometimes days at the store were fairly calm, while others were spent dodging crowds of fangirls and picking up after them. Those days were never boring and-while scary-nowhere near as bad as attacks during the war. He was only glad his own 'fans' weren't nearly as rabid as some of the others: he was great with enthusiasm as much as the next guy, but he didn't really enjoy the risk of being trampled.
Thankfully, today was fairly peaceful, though he did take a quick peak outside the store to make sure it was safe. When the coast was clear, he stepped out and headed towards the direction of the cabins, thinking that a lunch break on the deck would be better than the backroom of the grocery store. The deck also had the advantage of having proper seats and a table: nothing made one appreciate chairs like spending weeks huddled in a foxhole in the middle of winter.
He had just pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes when he saw a guy angrily fold a piece of paper and put it away.
"Hey, buddy." he called out. "Not liking the job he gave you?" He didn't remember seeing the guy before, and all things considered with George, that most likely meant he was a 'new employee'.