Ye know, laddie, if yer just gonna stand around with yer thumb up yer arse, I can give ye something to do. Thanks to me unbelievably low prices, we've no shortage of customers here at the Coffer & Coffin. But by the same token, I can't afford to hire much help. We're chronically understaffed. What's more, there's those lazy-arsed types what refuse to come an' order at the counter. It'd be a great help if ye could attend these customers for me. Mark their orders on these here slips, then bring them here. Oh, and don't forget about ol' Adalfuns outside and up top.
Thal's balls, I'm spent! Grilled dodo, and a tankard of ale to wash it down! Gah, here I am again, spendin' what meager coin I've got at the Coffin... It ain't me fault, I tell ye! Ye'd do the same if yer wife served up shite every bleedin' day!
Roger's new errand boy, are you? Well then, I'll keep it simple for your sake: a tankard of your finest ale, chilled with an ice shard. Heh heh... There's nothing like a tall drink to help one forget about the trifling things in life—like work.
Gods, I'm starving! Bring me ale, grilled dodo, and smoked shrew loaf! And make it quick! Business is good—too good, even. I've nary got the time to take a piss, let alone eat. The mere thought of the Coffin's cooking makes my mouth water!
That's all the orders, then? Let's see here... Ale, brandewine, grilled dodo... And for Adalfuns... Lemme guess—one tankard of ale. Right bleedin' miser, that one. I oughta put me boot up his arse. Anyroad, ye did good, laddie. By way of thanks, I'm gonna tell ye something what ought to prove to yer profit.