Chapter Text
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Sucking in the hot smoke of his cigarette, he checked his wrist watch yet again. Growing more agitated waiting for this new-hire. Already seeing the reason behind the extensive resume that came in on the application. He would reconsider, but the bistro needs staff. Even if it’s just filler until he can get someone professional in.
Where is this fucking kid?
Tapping his foot in vexation, Vincent hissed out the cigarette smoke and checked his watch again. One minute until the official start time, fourteen minutes late from showing up when asked so they would have more time doing the rundown of things before customers show up. Is he going to make an actual appearance or is he going to have to send out another help wanted ad?
The bistro’s doorbell chimed and a tall, broad shouldered, ginger male, wearing the La Gueule de Saturne’s uniform, stepped through. Vincent actually had to tilt his head up to look the guy in the eyes. Looking his new-hire up and down Vincent suppressed a sneer. Rolled sleeves, undone tie, tennis shoes, and mussed hair; Christ he really scraped the bottom of the barrel on this one.
Rody Lamoree, twenty-eight service jobs in seven years, personality like a goddamn golden retriever, and just irresponsible enough to piss him off but not warrant firing him…
Yet
Opening time comes and goes and nothing is in an uproar yet. No complaining or fighting with the new-hire from his two other waiters. It’s a bit surreal and anxiety inducing, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, but nothing happens. Customers leave and tables are polished, prepwork for tomorrow complete, and kitchen spotless.
That can’t be right.
Lamoree had to fuck up somewhere down the line, no one with that bad of a work ethic could perform excellent quality service fitting for the bistro. Getting home to his apartment, Vincent turned on his computer and looked at his website’s reviews for the day. A few critiques on the food that he ignores; put more salt on it if you want to make it taste like the fucking ocean you stupid cow. That’s why Salt is on the table. No mention of bad service though, but there are a few comments from some regulars about a cute new waiter with a handsome smile.
Rolling his eyes, he scoffs as he shuts the laptop. The kid looked like a vagabond, it doesn't matter how charming his smile is. The chef went to his bathroom and opened the faucets to fill the bath. Stripping, Vincent folded his clothes and placed them in the laundry basket before submerging himself in the bath. Letting the hot water melt away his frustrations of the day. Plucking his carton of cigarettes and lighter from the tub’s ledge, he places a death stick between his lips and sparks the lighter. Cherry red and smoldering, and tasting of ash as always.
Doesn’t matter which brand, which additives, it all tastes the same. Rubbing the dark circles under his eyes with a wet hand, Vincent sighed out the smoke. He needs new menu ideas, the bistro has cycled through a few of the same combinations too many times as of late. Flicking the ash off into the water, Vincent brings the cigarette to his lips and sucks in another lung full. Wonder what Lamoree’s favorite food is?
With that brash, happy puppy personality, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was something unrefined and mass produced. Something meaty or ridiculously sweet. Like pizza or cotton candy. Oh- There’s a thought.
A cotton candy martini. Sweet, colorful, entertaining for the guests, and will bring more attention to La Gueule de Saturne. Yes that’s- Jumping out of the tub the chef quickly snatches his bathrobe and wraps it around himself, hurrying to his bedroom for his notebook. Dripping water down his hallway and soaking the collar of the robe from his wet hair.
Vodka, juice, cotton candy, maybe a macaron to go with it? No definitely a macaron. Garnish for the martini glass. But what flavor? It will have to complement the main course.
In his frantic scribblings, Vincent didn’t notice this is the most inspired he’s been for food in a very long time.