It's been a bloody awful summer. Dad insisted that I got a Muggle job. The next person who asks what our daily specials are gets a straw up the nose. And if I have to carry one more tray of steak to a patron, only to have them tell me that it's not done properly I'm going to hex someone (Jelly Slug being my personal favorite of the moment).
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I might have to stop in, sounds like it would be fun.
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Or we can go somewhere in Diagon, your choice.
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Perhaps all we needed this summer was a break. If you want to hang out or something before school begins, let me know. I'm sure we could swap horror stories.
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And I have horror stories galore. Imagine this: a small child, a pair of ladies knickers, a spit wad, and our richest customer's prime rib. You figure out how they go together... Hanging out would be good, let me know when.
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Now imagine your father owning the bloody restaurant and insisting you work there.
Whenever we both have a day off would be great. Maybe tomorrow afternoon, if you're not tied to the hellhole?
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And it's bad enough my father insisted this, I can't imagine working for him as well.
Tomorrow works. Where?
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