“Are calling me a know it all sir” I slapped my hand to my chest on mock offence, to which he feigned pure horror.
“Of course not my good. Lady, I would never.”
We reach the front of the reception. The counter is attended by a boy no more than 16. He’s short, has bad acne, and his hair is choppy and weird. His deep disapproving scowl tells me that this is the last place he wants to be.
“Welcome to brumbies. How may we be of service today?” He asks with a snivel. Hmm, the poor thing must be sick. I wonder why he would show up to work like that.
“Reservations for Vasey”, Kyle tells the boy. He flips open a little black book on the desk with a bunch of names and times scribbled down in messy handwriting. He crosses Vasey off of the list and hands us a menu each.
“Follow me, please”
