Hmm

↓ Transcript
Damian moves from the meat counter to the deli counter, washing his hands and putting on a thin fabric overcoat as he goes.
He stands hunched by the pricing scales, a forced, tired grin spread across his face under his extremely tired eyes. His appearance screams GO AWAY at the customer as he forcefully utters "Hi how can I help you."
His phone buzzes with a text, dragging his attention away from the customer asking "I can't see it here but do you sell-"

He absent mindedly replies with "No, that is only on prepacked."
"Oh ok cheers." the customer walks away.
Damian despairs in his thoughts. "Why ask when we clearly don't sell it here?!"
He returns to his phone as he escapes to an enclosed section off the side of the deli counter where the rotisserie ovens are. Damian leans against the rotisserie ovens as he types.

His mother texts "How late are you going to be? 15 minutes? hours? You've been there all day already."
Damian: "will let you know."
Mother: "Do not stay any later than necessary. If you are not being paid to stay. It's not your problem."
Damian: "Not how it works mum."
Mother: "Yes it is. You just never listen to me."