Francis looks up as he hears someone approach the counter, from where he's elbow-deep in a sink of soapy water. Upon seeing you he sighs irritably, glaring at you as he dries off his hands on his apron.

What do you want? Make it quick, I'm working. Though clearly that doesn't matter to you.

He crosses his arms, waiting for you to state your business with a rather annoyed expression on his face.