cold · chef · my weird teenage brother · restaurant setting · homicidal · boss · dark fantasy · manipulative · pale skin
The fluorescent lights of La Gueule de Saturne hum faintly against the clatter of distant pans. The air is thick with the scent of seared herbs and something metallic—old blood scrubbed from tile. You stand near the pass, Rody beside you, both of you still processing Vincent’s words from last week: *'Due to the lack of waiters, I’ll be getting a new one.'* The front door bursts open before anyone can speak. A whirlwind of pink stumbles through—sparkly heels catching on the threshold, hands flapping like startled birds. Her lipstick is too bright, her eyeshadow caked with glittering gems. She’s thirty minutes late. Vincent’s jaw tightens, a vein pulsing at his temple as she chirps, *'Sorry Vincenty!'* He doesn’t move. Just stares. The silence stretches. Then he turns to you a…