|
  |
Vic has waited until the dinner rush clears out before he goes poking around the place. He asks one of the waitresses if the boss man is in, and if so, can Vic talk to him? Vic's in his best jeans and a white t-shirt, with a black leather jacket and his hair combed as neatly as the curls will allow.
Marcy nods, and then she calls out the back, and after a moment or two, out comes Lambert, washing his hands. He does that a lot, it has to be said. But then, it is important to keep things clean! His lambcoat hair is behind his hat, and he has a smile on his face "Hello?" he enquires, as he allows Sammy to take over washing the dishes for the next day "Can I help you? It's Chef Lambert."
Vic offers his hand to Lambert to shake, and he's a Very Respectful Boy of about eighteen, fresh-faced and, let's just put it out there, pretty. He's a pretty, pretty young man. "Vic," he says, "Vic Delano. I was wondering if you might have any positions open, sir. I don't mind hard work, and nothing's too menial."
Lambert is begining to smile a bit. Hmm. He _likes_ pretty. But he is also careful not to take advantage of those who might be too young "Oh! Well, come into the kitchen and we can talk about it - it isn't a big restaurant here. I have one waitress - that's Marcy - and a kitchen boy, Sammy. I've been needing to get more help. Can you tell me what your skills are?" he gestures him through.
Vic goes where Lambert indicates, heading back to the kitchen. He smacks his lips and says self-consciously, "Everything smells so good here, Chef." He finds a place to sit. Clasping his hands together, he says, "Geez, let's see. I can wash up. I can sweep, clean stuff, and I'm a quick study. Anything you need me to learn, I'll pick it up quick. I just need the chance, you'll see."
Lambert considers, then he says "Can you chop things, use a knife? What about fixing things - use a wrench, unstop a toilet, or handle a leak? It's like a regular house, sort of - with a few extras. If you're handy around a house…then I can use you. Or I can promote Sammy to Sous Chef if you have no knife skills, and make you kitchen boy." He interlaces his fingers and looks forward "We're near Mutant Town - so no one expects to pay top dollar here. Means you won't make as much as you would in a big restaurant."
Vic thinks about this, then nods and says, "Sure, yeah, I don't think that'll be too hard." He's had odd jobs before, none of this seems too far out there for him. "I like the idea of being a kitchen boy," he says with a lopsided grin. "I'm kind of a fan of food." His stomach grumbles, and he lays a hand over it as though that would silence it. "Look, I gotta level with you. I don't think I could get a job at those other places. I kind of have a police record."
Lambert eyes Vic, and lifts a finger, then gets up and heads over to the oven. There is bread there, just finished baking, and he takes out a milk-glazed loaf and he brings it over, with freshly churned butter. Lambert breaks it open with his broad hand and picks up a knife to slather it "Alright. Why don't you tell me what you did to get a police record, and I'll decide how it goes. People deserve a chance - for nearly anything. Nearly." Fresh, toasted bread is pushed across. The butter is paler, without food colouring, and salty.
The moment Lambert gives the slightest indication it's time to dive in, Vic tears himself off a chunk and slathers it. After he takes a bite, his features go blissful. He swallows, then says, "So good, oh my god." He takes another bite, chewing slowly. Bliss. Once the chunk is down, he licks his lips and says, "I went joyriding in a cop car on my eighteenth birthday." He glances aside sheepishly and tears off another chunk of bread. "I'm turning over a new leaf. I had a troubled childhood, but that's all behind me."
"Oh, that is nothing," says Lambert with a wave of his hand "Now if I found out you hurt a child…well, that would be different. You are changed now? Hmm. I do warn you that I am not always the most friendly boss." The bread is nice, and after a moment Lambert says "What do you think about mutants - and non-humans that are not mutants? And black people?"
Vic's eyes widen. "Hurt a kid?" He shakes his head. "No, geez. I'm not going to hurt a kid. I just did stuff like shoplifting and vandalism. I never hurt anyone who wasn't my own age and didn't swing first. But I've got a fresh start and I plan to make the most of it." He munches on the bread, and one would think the youth had been starved. Starved cruelly. He shrugs and says, "I've got no problem with anyone who doesn't have a problem with me. I mean who's normal, right?"
Lambert considers, then he says "And what about me? What do I look like to you?"
Vic looks at Lambert for a long moment, then says, "Like the guy who might be signing my paychecks if I play my cards right." He smiles. "Look, as long as you're fair, I'll work hard for you. I don't care about much else."
Lambert quirks a smile "Alright. There's one last thing - Sammy and Marcy each have…well. Marcy's a single mother. Her husband was no good. So no lip about keeping people's leg's shut to hurt, or I'll deck you - and you'll be glad of it. Sammy's nice, but he doesn't think quite like everyone else, so just be patient with him." After a moment he adds "And I have 'friends' who come and stay. Different friends. Yes, I mean _that type_ of girl. Or guy. If that's a bit offputting, you need to know now - I'm a satyr, and I behave like one. I like my pleasures, young man. It won't interfere with your work, but you'll see different people go up and down from my flat above. Back courtyard? Mostly mutants and other people who just want to eat in peace. Is all of that okay?"
Vic's brows lift. "People say that to her? Look, my dad walked out on my mom, and she was so drunk most of the time the only attention I got was when she was throwing wine glasses at me. If this Marcy is working hard to support her kid, she's a-ok in my book." He shrugs then, and he eats more bread before he says, "I'm not going to judge, Chef. You might find out I'm not all that normal, myself."
Lambert waves a hand "Then? We are good." He adds "You will start around about eleven. We run eleven to nine, and those are your hours, with a half hour cleaning afterwards. Sammy will teach you proper food handling - I want hair tied back - even short hair like yours must be under a hat. Clean hands - always. I'll give you a white outfit to wear, and Marcy will launder it. Clean! Everything must always be clean! You're going to start with sweeping, garbage, and washing dishes. After that, maybe a bit of table waiting." He looks him up and down, narrowed eyes "When did you last eat?"
Vic nods as he listens, eager and earnest. "Eleven to nine. Okay, I can do that. Sweeping, garbage, and dishes. I'll keep this place sparkling, Chef." He finishes the chunk of bread in his hand and looks at the rest of the loaf, considering. Then he lifts his gaze to Lambert, and he bites his lower lip, then says, "I got a metabolism thing. Sorry, Chef. I need a lot of calories."
Lambert looks a little vague. Calories? Never mind. He nods, and then he gets up, and moves around near the oven "Just be careful about all the hot, sharp things here. Here we go." Good lord. Bacon drippings and fried butter and sage on more bread. He brings back the heart attack with a huge bowl of strawberries drizzled in honey "Start eating. We're five days a week - sunday and monday off." He pauses "…do you have a bank, or is it cash in hand? And where do you live, how can I contact you?"
Vic digs in, and he says, "You're the best boss ever," polite enough not to speak with his mouth too full. The youth's got an appetite on him. "I don't have a bank right now, but I will get one. Cash in hand would be nice for now, though. He wipes his hands on his jeans and says, "I can give you my number. Just ask for Vic. It's, uh, my fella's place. I'm staying there, though. I'll get messages."
Lambert quirks his lips "Oh, well, I shouldn't have worried quite so much about you being frightened of my inclinations." He adds "We'll see you tomorrow then. Here. Let me get you some apple juice as well - not fermented." His eyes crinkle in amusement. And then Lambert says "Vic. Well, Vic - do well by us, and we'll do well by you. Oh, and if supers start to cause problems, just yell for me. I've a few friends who owe me favours. Let's let the hardheads deal, eh?"
"Do you get supers who cause problems?" Vic asks, perking up a bit. "I can knock some heads together for you. I'm a strong guy, pretty quick. If you need super security…" He ducks his head, sheepish as he adds, "Makes needing all this food almost worth it." He eats. Oh, how he eats.
Lambert blinks "Are you…that strong?" he asks, and then he pushes across a glass of apple juice. Good and fresh, with a little cinnamon and even chilli added into it. Sort of hot and peppery and sweet. Then he says "We do. Sometimes. I have an open courtyard, and flying ones and thieves sometimes come down."
Vic takes a drink of the juice, and he nods. "Sure. Want me to show you?" He looks around for something that looks heavy. There's one of the tables, unoccupied, so he gets to his feet and he goes to the table in question. It's one of those big, dense wooden ones. "Want me to lift this?"
Lambert blinks, and waves a hand "Go ahead. I'd find it hard." He would too. Lambert is as strong as a perfect athlete - but that athlete must still be human!
Vic slips an arm under the table, splays a hand for balance. Then he lifts it with one arm. Like it were a plastic lawn chair, really. The hardest part is the balance. He lifts it up until he's holding it over his head, grinning as he shows off. Then he lowers the table back down, arranges it to where it was before he picked it up. Anything on the table is still in place. He's agile as he is strong. "Easy peay," he says.
Lambert stares for a moment or two, and then he says "So, you're also going to be chopping wood for the fire…" AHEM, Lambert. The chef adds "…that's astonishing. How long have you been able to do that?!"
Vic grins as he says, "Sure, I'll chop wood for you." He considers Lambert for a moment, then comes to reclaim his seat and returns to eating delicious food, his true motivation for seeking a job here. "About a week," he says tentatively. "But it's super easy. I don't even have to practice. It just comes naturally."
Lambert looks bland "And here I have to…" Do nothing. He has to do nothing. A satyr is a satyr. Then Lambert's lips quirk "Never mind that." He waves a hand "Eat. Get those strawberries into you. Let me guess. You have nothing for breakfast tomorrow, correct?"
"I hadn't really thought that far ahead," Vic admits. He gives the strawberries a good home in his belly, and he looks delighted the whole time he's doing it. "If I can say so, Chef, you're the best cook I've ever met. I had the baklava a little while ago and it was the most amazing thing I'd ever tasted. I'm going to spend all my pay getting food."
"Flattery is a good start," grins Lambert, and then he goes to the stove again, and he starts to open cupboards - getting out oats and honey and some dried apricots "I'll make up something you can take home and eat cold - or heat up with some hot water. So you just got out with a criminal record and have no way of supporting yourself - typical. That's how prisons work around here. They seem to want to make more prisoners - forever."
"Hey, I just call it like I see it," Vic says with a wry smile. He watches Lambert with nothing short of awe. Breakfast, too? This is the sort of thing that breeds loyalty. "Almost no one wants to take a chance on a convict. Like they've never done anything wrong." He shakes his head. "But my guy doesn't care if I live off him. He'd pay my way without batting an eyelash, but that's not who I want to be."
Vic adds, "Besides, I don't think he really understands what the food bill would come to."
Lambert says, curiously "Who is 'your guy'?" He adds "I mean, look - my people don't have so much of a hangup about gender, but here people seem to get very upset. Never mind. It's not a problem." He then stirs the pot, before he takes out a nice pottery container, and he scoops some of the not-porrige into it "Here you go. Full of fruit. But. Remember that my patience does have an end point - you're going to need to work well." He adds "Also, if someone's stealing food because they're starving, it's okay to make them wash the dishes to get some, okay? Don't call the police."
Vic takes the not-porridge, and he says, "Thank you." With a solemn nod he says, "I'll work hard, Chef. I want to work." Then he smiles. "You're a good guy, Chef, Exactly the sort I want to work for. I'll set them to a task and no one needs to be the wiser." No police. No thank you. He polishes off the last strawberry then gets to his feet. "I should get going. My guy — his name is Kellan — I'm going to meet him for pizza. I'm sure you'll meet him sometime."
Lambert blinks. He is going to meet someone for pizza after that? How odd. He laughs, and he leans over to pop the pottery lid onto the not-porrige container, and he says "Then go and get some pizza. I have someone waiting for me in my room, and I don't intend to disappoint her. Good night, Vic. See you tomorrow, bright and early." Well. At eleven.