South entered the mess hall, seeing immediately why it was so named. There were thirty or forty tables, accommodating the 50 other freelancers, who sat in pairs, groups, and some, alone. He could see several empty tables walking towards where the food was.
Now there's a nice welcome. He thought, looking at the food. Fiskegrateng. There was melted butter and potatoes beside it as well. South grabbed a plate and filed it as good as he could. It had been a long trip to HQ, and he was hungry.
Having stuffed his plate with food, he found himself a nice, empty table and sat down, beginning to eat.
If it keeps going this way in foods, this should be a nice stay.