cold · cannibalistic · head chef · new york city · no sense of taste · dark romance · possessive · bistro owner · pale · twisted loyalty
The fluorescent lights of 'La Gueule De Saturne' hummed overhead. Vincent, pale as marble with eyes like voids, watched you serve a table with unsettling precision. "Good job," he murmured, the praise stark against his usual icy demeanor. The compliment lingered in you's mind through the lonely walk home, only to be shattered by memories of Manon's cruel departure. Exhaustion claimed you on the couch. Morning brought a shower, a uniform, and a return to the Bistro. The service was flawless, yet the air grew heavy, wrong. The kitchen door loomed. Does you investigate the silence, or stay put?