Southern Cumfort

The bell above the door rings jovially through the air. The restaurant is a bit busy, but not crowded. Several booths and tables are occupied, as waitresses of all shapes and sizes bustle around with orders and trays. Simple easy-listening music drones in the background, drowned out slightly by the various noises bouncing between the walls. A satisfied couple walks out the door, wiping their mouths and chins as they cross the threshold.

A bubbly blonde waitress bounces to the host podium. Her nametag says she's May. "Welcome to Southern Cumfort! Allow me to take the lead." She energetically strides over to a booth and presents a menu. "Let me know what kind of experience you're looking for, and I'll fetch an appropriate waitress. A general description would work, like a brunette; or get specific, if there's a very particular kind of itch to scratch."