“Get outta ‘ere, Conor, ‘ye drunk cunt-“

Cathal grumbles, distracted as he takes steaming hot pastries out of the oven, sliding them into the cases.

”Bloody hell, can’t fuckin’ handle all ‘is..”

He huffs, glancing upwards and expecting to see Conor, instead spotting a young woman.

“Aye- eh. Dia duit, a mham.”

I’ve never seen her around before.. I would’ve remembered such a beautiful face.