Before Parker had set off for his summer abroad at a distant island in the Pacific, Honeyduke's shop owner had eagerly agreed to hire him back once he returned. He was thankful for this, as he imagined other places might not have been so understanding.

He had allowed himself a week to unpack, settle in, and get back in touch with friends before committing himself back to work. The co-workers that knew him before he'd left all had comments about his tan, healthier frame, and pleasant aura. It was a bit odd to have the attention on him that morning, but the playful banter and familiar laughter was something he missed dearly the past few months. And so they chatted and caught up as they prepped for the morning and served the slow trickling of people in and out before the rush that usually came around lunch time - even in the summer.

There were some new faces working at the shop, hired over the summer and getting used to the workings of the place, or just having started their training. Parker stood, wand out, before some of the hand written menu signs by the front. Slowing moving his wand, he altered the specials they had available that day and added in what new products they just got in. As he did so, Parker was lost in his thoughts, taking in all the smells and sounds - just as they were before he left. He hadn't realized just how homesick he'd been.

Pyxis didn't need a job, if she were to be honest with herself. The fortune from her mother and father's combined heritage meant that she was loaded for life; and since she was supposed to be stepping into the role as heir of her mother's high-fashion company, the last thing she needed was more distraction. Her parents already strongly disapproved of her rushing off to study dragon training, though they weren't privy to all the details. Fortunately, Pyxis' parents weren't near, and they couldn't keep her under their thumb as they had done so often when she was at school.

Her delightful father, in particular, would have many choice words for her if he discovered that his daughter, his pureblood daughter, was working at a waitress. He'd twist the story however he pleased in the prophet, stating that "his good girl is looking to gain some worldly experience" or something else ludicrous. His words would be less kind and less false when he rounded on her.

Dismissing the thought with a swing of her hips, she pushed the door between the kitchen and the tea shop open, a tray of drinks balanced on her palm. She was one of the newest employees, and had already developed a distinct distaste for most of the people who worked shifts with her. She'd invested all of her energy into charming the owner, and therefore none was leftover to pretend that she had time to converse with boring fuddy-duddy's like the buffoon of a girl she'd been stuck with last shift.

Now, it seemed, she'd acquired a spacer. He was certainly doing something, but his gaze looked unfocused and his hand gestures too... Lazy. "Hey, airhead, want to hurry up with the specials board? There are customers to be served."

Getting a job had been one of the best thing to happen to Parker since he’d come to Merlin’s. There was a sense of autonomy (financial and otherwise) that came from it; something he had a difficult relationship with through his years growing up. It took time to adjust to being able to buy comfort items and necessities alike. But at least growing up at the bottom of the barrel meant his saving habits were better than nearly all of his peers. There was never anything in particular he was saving for other than security, but for now that was a good enough reason. He prefered his rather simple, minimalistic existence as it was anyways. And that was good enough for him.

Given everything, he was surprised to feel that way for once. Given everything… damn, he deserved something good.

It brought a warm feeling over him as he was changing the menu signs. But then all the pleasant thoughts and feelings left so fast it shook him out of his thoughts - the sudden change in his emotions and demeanor he had learned to recognize as not his own, though why such a thing occurred still eluded him. He made eye contact with a girl he didn’t recognize, his expression changing more into one of displeasure as she spoke.

“I’d watch the way you speak to someone that’s been working here two years longer than you,” he spat, his usually subdued Irish accent much more prominent.