the white wolf

More and more, Jon found that his days were idle upon the island and he didn't care for it. There were Robb and Reynald to consider, of course, and he did aid Del from time to time with her shop but other than that, there were hours every day that he just couldn't seem to fill. No amount of tracking with Ghost or swimming in the sea seemed to fill that ache, either, and it was with that purpose in mind that he thought he might seek employment.

There were places on the island that, since there was no coin he didn't know if you could call it a business, but they needed helping hands from time to time. He passed by one of them, a tavern, and noticed a small hand-lettered sign asking for help. That was promising.

Jon knew how to mix wine, certainly, and he was strong and could haul casks of ale and cider around. What he didn't know how to do were the fancier drinks that the island's barkeeps liked to prepare and he didn't know if that would be an issue in offering his aid. No matter, though, as it seemed there was a woman inside. He'd ask what she needed and, if it was something he could provide now or learn easily, he'd offer it.

"I've come to see about offering help here," Jon said, blunt and to the point. No sense in dancing around it.