Fandom Island and Town

Luke's had totally been open all day. Shut up. Priestly was even here the whole time, ready to man the stove if inspiration struck to try out some new dish.

He hadn't actually gotten around to, say, writing up specials or anything, though. He was going to, really he was, but see, he kept getting distracted. Which was what was happening now, over there at the front counter, where he was sort of half-sprawled with his chin on his arm, his free hand holding open the book he had propped against a napkin holder.

"Anarchist Cookbook?" the Dishwasher guessed.

"Eat, Pray, Love," the Cook proposed.

Priestly lifted his head just long enough to flick them off, eyes never leaving the pages.

If a customer or, you know, an actual friend came in, he'd be all set to actually sit up and pay attention, don't worry.

[late, lazy post = no OCD. Have at ye.]