Some juices from the meat had splattered onto Clifford's whiteboard. He took a rag out of his apron's pouch and wiped it off. Can't have any caked blood on it now, that wouldn't do at all. It'd been way too long since he'd seen a bottle of Windex around here. He tucked the rag back in the pouch and turned his head, watching some of the werewolves feed on the supplied meat. Some of them fought over one clump like savages, eventually separating it into two chunks. Whole thing was just... [i]nasty[/i].

Wonder how they'd react to a... nice steak dinner. Clifford would do that. If Lunie would allow it.

He turned his head and made his way towards the maintenance closet, pushing the cart with him to refill for one more go-around. The moment he got near the doors, they opened, with some spectacle-wearing-skinny-man marching in. The moment the smell of Main Holding flooded his nostrils, he grunted a bit and pinched his nose. Clear sign of a greenhorn, that was for sure. The man took a few steps forward before Clifford decided to cut in and stop him. Be polite. Offer him a tour. Get to know him before the guy probably starts regretting his decision to come here.

He set the cart aside and pulled down his facecloth. He slowly grabbed and held up his whiteboard with his hooks, holding it in front of his face and writing on it with a black marker from the pouch. The greenhorn, a little confused, watched as he turned the whiteboard around, now with a question presented upon it.

[i]New?[/i]