The Afternoon Rush [InfernalZero/Cecil]

It was a busy moment for Edward as the bodies of customers began to stroll into the restaurant. Beyond the barking orders and hectic atmosphere, it didn't mean he was going to start slacking behind. A chef's work was one of perfection that can be enjoyed by people and a passion that can be truly tasted. It was with his drive that he didn't begin to fall behind the growing number of orders. While the hubbub continued, each dish didn't fail to reach their table. Eventually, it began to die down, but it didn't mean Edward could relax just yet. There was still a job to do, after all. As he waited for the pot to boil for the next batch, the chef glanced at the entrance for any newcomers.

Cecil walks into the restaurant, removing his headphones as he looked around the place. It doesn't take long for the smell to hit his nose, and before long the tension in his body eases off, the fragrant scents lingering in the air bringing a tranquil smile to his face. He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath in, just taking in the atmosphere.
Ahhh...it definitely smells good in here.
He opens his eyes looking much better than when he walked in. He didn't know what the place was like, but right now the most noise he could hear was a comfortable low chatter, and the general atmosphere seemed comfortable and welcoming right now.
All he needed now was for the food to taste as good as the place smelled, and this would be perfect.

Not seeing any sign he was meant to seat himself, Cecil steps a little away from the door so as not to obstruct anyone coming in and waits for the attention of a staff member, smiling comfortably in the way he had been since he walked in. It had been far too long since he'd had Japanese food.

Edward allowed his attention to waver when he heard someone coming in. Another customer? It appeared to be the case with this guy standing there without doing much. Was he waiting for a sign? Well, there was some time to kill while the pot boiled. He leaned over the counter to face his new customer.

Cecil's attention snapped to the voice from over the counter, mildly surprised as he snapped out of the haze the scents surrounding him induced. "O-oh. Yeah, just me. Alright." It...looked like he was supposed to seat himself after all.
Oops.

Moving over to the booth, he settled himself and waited for the staff member to come over.

The chef would allow the young man to find his way to the booth he had pointed out to him, returning to his work in the kitchen. The ebb and flow of people would continue to churn their way into the restaurant and Edward would quickly attend to any and all orders that would be sent his way. The fires of the stove blazed on as the chef swiftly kept his boiling pots in check and worried over the oven, though after fulfilling a few dishes to who would be satisfied customers the man left his station to continue reigning the chaos of the lunch rush in.

He walked with a long, purposeful gait to the booth where Cecil had parked himself in, sliding a single menu onto the table.
"Will you have anything to drink?" he asked with a serious face, "Can I start you off with anything or will you need time to order?" The man's tone was quick, almost impatient however lacking in hostility. Edward would rest a hand on his hip as he dutifully waited for the young man's reply. He was one of many orders to take and customers to satisfy, it would be unfair to keep the rest waiting so long. He wasn't known for falling behind on his orders.

"Uhhh..." A creeping shot of nerves ran through him at the tone of the man before him, a certain sense of pressure developing that he found himself unable to prevent adding a tension to his frame. The more sensible idea of telling him he needed time, gathering himself, and ordering then was hastily overlooked in the panic not to waste his time. Quickly, he tore open the menu and scanned across it, looking through before remembering the thing he pretty much always got. "A, ah...just some miso soup for now."

Edward remained unswayed by his customer's anxiousness, of course. If he required time to order or was unsure of himself, so be it. It wouldn't be very difficult to come back and take the young man's order later, after all the customer is always right. What he was offering was a prime culinary experience, and if he needed some extra thought to decide how he wanted things that gave Edward a broader target to hit rather than to make a generic dish and hope for the best. He didn't become a chef to simply make good food, cooking was a form of art and sometimes art needed direction. Though, he would make a generic, delicious meal despite any prompting. Again, a good chef could make a paper plate delectable.

The man pulled a flip notepad and pen from his back pocket to begin scribbling down the order with nimble fingers.
"An excellent choice. How would you like that prepared? The red, yellow, black, or white miso? The red miso is boiled in a stock with red chili and ginger for a spicy taste, the yellow miso is boiled with seaweed and natural seasalt with a homemade chicken broth, the black miso is made in a deep soy stock with soybeans for a refined pallet with a bitter flavor that pairs will with red meats and more flavourful fish, and the white miso is a little on the sweeter side of things with tofu and green onion which I suggest with a spinach salad on the side."

The man rattled off his menu as if it were nothing. How could he not? He wrote it and prepared it.
"Though I do make custom dishes depending on what the customer wants. Have you decided or will you need more time to order?" the chef raised his eyebrow to Cecil, pen on paper prepared to jot down whatever the young man's tastebuds desired.

He
He was not expecting that response.
Most of the places only had one type of miso on offer.
This was new.
Not to say he wasn't listening, though. Processing it all, he had to say..."Red miso, please?" If he was going to try something here, that seemed the most interesting.
His eyes continued to run over the menu, mind working away to figure out just what he was after. "Uh..." He shook his head, and just looked up at Edward. "Just that for now...think I need more time to think it over. The variety here's wider than anywhere I've been so far."

The diligent chef scribbled on his notepad with practiced speed, jotting down Cecil's order faster than he can finish.
"Thank you, I take pride in my cooking. All dishes you see on that menu are either my own suggestion or design. It's always good to see someone who can appreciate the work that goes into this restaurant." His words were friendly but Edward's voice and expression remained rather neutral. Customer service wasn't his forte, cooking was, and he was still on the job and would like to get it finished to maintain the steady stream of satisfied customers. His dishes would speak his dedication for him, all prepared with the most storied of expertise and tender care.
"Very well, I'll have your order to you shortly." And with a curt outro Edward would step away from the table as he tore the order from his notepad with quick, purposeful steps toward the kitchen.


Not ten minutes later he would return with several items on a tray, yet only one would be given to the young man. He wasn't the only customer after all.


"One red miso with soba, chopped kale and red onion," he spoke in rushed tones, sliding the dish onto the table along with a glass of water to accompany it. With an order so uncertain Edward took steps to dial down the spice in amounts that would still leave it rather spicy but wouldn't overpower the natural flavour of the dish. Still, water was recommended for such a mouth-burning morsel. The strong scent of ginger and peppers wafted up from the bowl giving an almost... intimidating aroma, tickling the sinuses with the threat of spiced heaven in a bowl.
"Bon appetit."

Though the young chef wouldn't stick around for long, moving to complete his other orders.
"If you'll excuse me I have other customers to attend to. I'll return shortly to take any more orders you have. Tell me what you think." With no further pleasantries Edward Fox would leave Cecil with his order, focusing on keeping his restaurant afloat.

"Seriously?" He couldn't help but be surprised - and well, somewhat impressed. He glances back at the menu, and the breadth of items featured. "You...basically designed the entire menu...and there's a lot on here. Being good enough to have your ideas be the focus is one thing, but to have so much that's each worth a spot?" A little smile creeps across his face. "I feel like this is going to be good."

He doesn't say anything as Edward goes to attend other matters, simply giving a little nod with that same small smile as he goes back to the menu.


Cecil's head jerks up from the menu as the miso arrives, torn away from his oscillation between two of the items after working through it. The scent was distinct, and impossible for him to ignore in his hungry state, demanding attention and consumption. He turns his attention back to the responsible chef, rushing his words just a little in the eagerness to move onto what he'd ordered. "Sure thing."
His gaze gravitated back to the miso as Edward left. He could actually smell the spice. As much as things might claim to be spicy, a lot of them just didn't live up to the promises they made.
As he started on the dish though, it was made clear - this actually delivered on the spice that was promised.
Oh, that lovely warmth...

He took his time to savour the dish. If he wanted to, he could probably have taken the chance to pick it apart, identify each part of the flavours he was experiencing and the ways they mixed together...but honestly, he didn't care to, because this was delicious and he was trying so hard not to devour it the way he usually did with something good when he was hungry.
Even though what he was currently facing was something he could comfortably handle for a while, if he didn't hold back and inhaled it all like that, he knew he would to bathe his mouth in flame, and that'd just overwhelm everything.
...plus, it'd be gone way too soon. He was pretty sure that'd just make the wait that much more agonising.

As tantalized the soup was incredibly spicy, the smell alone enough to make the eyes water. Every bite was a delicious agony that razed his taste buds to the ground and left them in shock and awe. But it wasn't an overpowering spice, just enough to make him red in the face and still let the tenderly prepared flavor seep through the heat. It took a particularly courageous individual to wolf something like this down, but with enough heart (and heartburn) Cecil would find that the suffering was worth the taste.

Social Qualities:

A short time after finishing and as attentive as Edward was toward his customers the young man would find the chef approaching his table once again, notepad in hand.
"How did you find everything?" he asked, pen to paper and at the ready, "Will you be ordering anything else or would you like the check right away?" Curt as always, there was precious little time for pleasantries with a restaurant to run basically by himself. Though he would not turn a customer away or let one leave dissatisfied so readily. The dutiful chef would give Cecil an expectant, piercing gaze as he awaited his judgement.

A proper use of the water had died down the heat to a better level, and frankly, that had been satisfying. The miso had honestly been more filling than he would have really expected from such a thing. Still...he was kind of still hungry. Just not so much as he was expecting.
Cecil smiled back at Edward when he came back, altogether more relaxed than before. "That was great. For something I didn't know was available, I have to wonder how I did without." What was he...oh, yeah. "Just some tonkatsu and I should be done."

Edward blinked, unflinching in his stoic expression.
Tres bien. I'm glad you enjoyed it." But the chef would have no time for idle chit chat, despite his curt appearance he was much more occupied in his restaurant. As he spoke to the young man he was jotting down the order he had asked for, tearing it from his notebook like the last. Just like clockwork.
"One order of tonkatsu, pan fried. That comes with your choice of shredded cabbage or rice and its own homemade sauce. Would you like to make that into a curry instead? It will be spicier than the miso, I'm sure." quizzed Edward with a raised eyebrow. Satisfied customers were what brought him to this job day in and day out but a little suggestion never hurt.

He almost couldn't help the grin that was spreading across his face at the suggestion. "I have to be honest, a curry does sound good." He pauses slightly. "Yeah...I'll take that as a curry. Can't wait to see how hot it actually is."

"I'm sure you'll be impressed," remarked the stoic young man, scribbling down on his notepad once more. He kept the same chilling gaze as he always wore, definitely more focused on his job than socializing and quickly tore out the paper and stuffed the notepad in the pocket of his apron. It was at least a good thing to see one of his customers impressed with his prowess but Edward had neither the time nor the inclination to let it go to his head. There were hungry people to serve.
"Your order should be to you shortly," stated the chef as he moved to walk away with purpose as he had done before, this time taking Cecil's empty water glass along with him.


Around 10 minutes later the man would reappear again with another tray, filled with many items just as the last time. He swiftly approached and laid down a piping hot dish and a tall glass of fresh water to go with it. It would be important now more than ever.
"One order of tonkatsu curry, pan fried with our spicy blend of ghost pepper and habanero breading steeped in our Level 10 seasoned curry made with Devil's Blood and custom spices. Bon appetit." And once more without so much as an exchange Edward walked off again to serve other customers.

Unlike the miso while one could smell the spice of the soup it was much more apt to state that the curry smelled Cecil. It smelled his fear. It smelled weakness. The odious scent of the curry wafted up and did not tickle and tantalize his olfactory senses but rather took his brain by the stem and squeezed it in a vice grip in an attempt to rip it through his nostrils. The tonkatsu did not radiate with spice and the threat of a burned tongue, it oozed with malice and murderous intent.

This was a dish Cecil would not be able to finish, but not one he should feel bad for failing to. Few men could, and those men weren't men at all but creatures in man skin.