"Arthur, embrace it," Michael stated matter-of-factly. "You put us in this situation, after all."
"I did?" Arthur shot back, glaring at him. "You were the one who suggested we get food!"
"I mean... didn't you enjoy it? You ate that shit up faster than even I did." Michael chuckled. "Anyways, scrub faster, we're almost done."
Since they didn't have any money—and obviously no other means to pay for the food—they offered their bodies.
Not literally, of course. They weren't male strippers.
Instead, they were sent to the kitchen where they could wash the plates in order to cover their bills.
Honestly, Michael expected it to be a hoax since the movies did it so frequently. However, aside from the glare he received from the innkeeper, everything was just peachy.
And after another hour, they were finally finished.
"Fuck you," Arthur said, taking off his apron. "I have never been treated with such disrespect before, and yet, a single demon made me wash its ugly dishes."
