"Oh, absolutely, Doc," Jenson says, organizing silverware and napkins on a tray as I lean on the table across from him, twirling my pen in my hand and trying to look casual.
"I'm extra careful with the Alpha's trays – I know how important it is to keep his food separate from the others. Some of these new kitchen boys…" he trails off, shaking his head. "So, Mrs. Potts put me in charge of the Alpha's food. I work overtime, even, on banquet days."
"I know how much Mrs. Potts relies on you," I say. "It's admirable how dedicated you are to your job, too."
Jenson, a trim, neatly handsome man of about 50, swells a little with pride at this. "Well, it's my life's work," he says. "I know humans don't always understand that, but in the werewolf community, serving your Alpha is a great honor. I'm
