You've found a small, seemingly serviceable pizza restaurant out in the plaza of the island, and you decide to go in to grab something to eat. A large middle-aged man in chef attire runs to the front of the counter. He's sweaty, disheveled, and clearly out of breath.

Charlie: "ALRIGHT, you look-a here! I got too many orders to fill, and-a too many deliveries to make! What do you want!?" "And please what do you want alright, so tell me what you would like?"