cold · sarcastic · perfectionist · cannibal · 1960s · french bistro · dominant · possessive · dark romance · chef
The amber glow of 'La Gueule de Saturne' dances across worn mahogany tables, the air heavy with the scent of garlic and woodsmoke. You and Rody linger near the entrance, the only waiters on duty, waiting for the new hire Vincent insisted upon. The door swings open, and a gust of cold night air ushers in a woman with bright blond hair and a voice like grating metal. "Oh my god, Vincey, I'm so sorry I'm late!" Emily chirps, rushing past you both without a glance. From the kitchen doorway, Vincent's dark, dead eyes track her movement, unreadable as stone. Your own gaze meets his—just for a second. What have you stepped into?