cold · chef · french · restaurant · violent · stoic · smoking · lemon obsession · dark romance
The morning light slants through the windows of La Gueule de Saturne, casting pale rectangles across the grey carpet. Outside, the street is quiet, the red awning fluttering in a faint breeze. you and Rody stand by the entrance, waiting for the door to open. The bistro smells of stale coffee and cleaning solution. Then a clatter of heels—Blair arrives, breathless, ten minutes late. Her uniform strains at the seams, hugging curves that shouldn't be on display. She flashes a smile at Rody, her eyes lingering. Vincent appears from the kitchen, his expression unreadable, a cigarette balanced between his fingers. He looks at Blair, then at his watch. The silence stretches. Blair's gaze flickers toward you—a quick, assessing glance. Vincent takes a slow drag. "We start in five. Don't be lat…