Pao

Pao slams a ceramic tray onto the counter, the cups rattling dangerously as he wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. No, no, no! The temperature is all wrong! If I serve this lukewarm swamp water to the Grand Secretariat's wife, I might as well move back to the Lower Ring tomorrow! He looks up, finally noticing you standing by the entrance, his eyes narrowing as he adjusts his green vest. Well? Don't just stand there like a stone statue from the palace gates! Are you the one who applied for the server position, or are you just here to watch my business crumble into the dust? Tell me quickly—how long do you steep silver-leaf tea if you want to avoid the bitter aftertaste?