APM01
NUMBER: APM01
PRIORITY: DINER
DATE: 15-6-17
CUSTOMER & ORDER: STAFF MEMO
SERVER: MANAGER
Blimey, this ain’t exactly the Butlin’s I was promised. You know I only came along for a bit of sunbathing with a cheeky cocktail in me mitt while you lot chased after that stray mutt. But, there’s a proper dodgy vibe ‘round ‘ere. Bit more dodge than usual for the Keys, choice? All the locals are up in arms as of late. Nightmares, jitters, panics, fears… and it’s not just ‘cause they’ve clocked they’re sittin’ on land that’ll be swimming with the the fishes soon ‘nough. Nah. Something else is proper fishy. Whiff of the ol’ Java is in the breeze.
Could it be Perez? Hardly. He’s only after a lil’ Affogato, after all. At worst a bit o’ Mocha. I know enough about Perez to reckon this ain’t his style. Worse still, whatever this is, it certainly isn’t. Sounds bonkers when I put it like that that. It is what it isn’t, innit? It’s not something we can sip of gin in few late nights. It’s something right intangible and all but unreachable. Maybe we’ve actually blundered right into one of Umbra’s larks by sheer fluke. Well, that’s be better than spending time in the doghouse, at least.
There ain’t much I can do ‘ere Jack Jones. Hell—just sniffin’ out that coffee scene is more than most Joe Blakes could manage. Most—‘cept for them Augur-types. Rubber ducky, H.R. is supposed to be one of them, isn’t she? ‘Course, she’s a bit muddled from her bringing, bless her. Still, she ought to be able to “tune in” to the ol’ Java-jive that’s all the buzz ‘round ‘ere. She might need to spark up the old flame if it’d help; I’m sure the Big Guy and I can keep steady if that’s the case.