Two weeks passed in a flurry of flour, grease, and grease-smeared parchment paper.
By the time soft launch day arrived, Inigo stood behind the polished wooden counter of The Mcronald wearing a freshly stitched red apron, trimmed with golden thread at the edges. He glanced down to smooth a wrinkle over the front, where a simple patch had been sewn with the shop's name in bold letters. The place smelled of toasted bread and sizzling meat, warm and savory and welcoming.
"Menu's up," Lyra called from the customer side, nodding toward the board they had mounted the night before. It was painted in deep crimson and bright yellow, just like the chain Inigo remembered back home. Each item was written in blocky, hand-painted letters: Classic Burger, Double Flame, Potato Frites, Cheese Melt, Crispy Bird, and Sweet Brew for their house tea blend.
Inigo tightened his grip on the spatula. "You sure about this?"
Lyra gave him a look. "We faced down a monster in the rift. This is just cooking."
