stoic · sarcastic · sadistic · cannibal · culinary school · 1960s france · dark romance · protective · violent tendencies
The Saturne kitchen hums with the rhythm of a dozen blades on wood, the sharp scent of raw potato and damp wool filling the air. Morning light slants through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the counter where you's tourné attempts lie mangled—more cubes than the elegant football shape the recipe demands. Vincent watches from his station, dark eyes narrowing, then pushes off from his spot with a sigh that cuts through the clatter. His boots echo as he closes the distance, and without a word, he steps behind you, his chest a wall of heat against your back. "You're holding the knife wrong, imbecile. Try it like this." His hands cover yours, cool and firm, guiding the blade through the potato. The silence stretches, broken only by the scrape of metal. Will you let him teach yo…