“Chirp. Chirp. Chirp,” Caspian joked in an attempt to lift the mood.
“You make a good cricket,” Quinn said. She wiggled her bandaged finger behind her head and squatted up and down. “Cri, cri, cri.”
I didn’t think that was what a cricket looked like, but she looked cute pretending to hop through the bar. She and Caspian seemed to be getting along, which was good for business. If the staff worked well together, it created a welcoming atmosphere.
“Is it always this empty?” The young woman tapped herself another glass of water and glugged it down.
“It’s not that bad,” I defended a bit lacklustre, but one look around negated my argument. It was only seven and the bar was already deserted. “Well, completely empty…”
“It’s Sunday?” Caspian tried.
“It shouldn’t be slow on a Sunday. All the s
