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Post by sunny on Jan 13, 2013 19:33:05 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 550px][atrb=cellpadding,0,true] andillbehereinthemorning
if you say stay to me
Oh, she was furious, beyond furious, in fact she could have reached over, wrapped her hands around the offending chef's neck and strangled her. Right then and there. She'd put up with this for about a week, this testy, disrespectful Italian chef who had thought she was so invaluable that smarting off to the owner hadn't crossed her mind as a bad thing to do. And she had just about had it. The woman was a good chef, that was for certain and Emerson had hoped that the woman would settle down, fall into her place by the end of the week. It hadn't happened. And now here she was, just a few hours before La Reve was suppose to open, with a woman screaming at her in a mix of english and italian. Em was fuming. How DARE this woman yell at her, how dare she try to act like she was the better. Her eyes were narrowed and she had her arms crossed over her chest. Emerson never displayed her anger vocally, hardly rose her voice and never ever had outbursts of any kind.
And she expected others to keep their head, like she does. If there was one thing she hated it was when someone felt the need to yell, scream, especially at her. The reasoning behind the italian's screaming probably made the situation even more ridiculous, because Emerson wouldn't allow her time off on Saturday night, one of their busiest nights. Finally it became too much and she moved one arm, pointing to the door. "Get out." For a moment the woman just stared at her, she probably hadn't thought Em would fire her, she, after all, was a renown cook. But Emerson had had enough, and she had more than enough back ups in case something didn't work out with one chef. She rose an eyebrow at the other woman, as if in disbelief she hadn't gone yet, which was true. "Did I stutter? Or do I need to explain it to you further?" Her voice was sharp, cutting, and the woman started to retort and Emerson narrowed her eyes further. "Now" Spluttering the other woman turned on her heel, opening the door and stepping half way through.
Emerson turned on her heel, and with a mere thought simply slammed the door into the woman and turning the lock as she moved deeper into her restaurant. This was ridiculous, now she was short a chef and she opened in only a few hours. She should have simply fired the woman a long while ago. She scoffed as she moved into her office in the back. Emerson took a very personal interest in her restaurant, sure she had a general manager, but she was very hands on with running the place, because this was her baby, this was her place. And she wasn't about to let some idiot fuck it up. She fiddled through a few papers, checking over the reservations for tonight, the chefs scheduled to come in, the specials for the night. She needed one more chef. And she knew this late in the day, so close to when La Reve would open, there wouldn't be a chef that is just sitting around not doing anything. Not a very good one at least. She blinked then, a smile, a grin really, crossing her face. Of course, there was always one person she knew who could always make her appreciate the food he cooked.
So she held out her hand, her phone soon resting on it before quickly dialing, holding the little thing up to her ear. She tapped a foot, not liking how long it was taking for him to answer, he should always answer right away, especially for her. "Finally, Rudy I need you to stop whatever you are doing and come down to La Reve" She hardly waited for a reply, or even a hello, she was a bit irritated still and wanted him down here as soon as possible. "I'll explain when you come down here, and if you cooked anything with chocolate can you bring that too?" That's what she needed, she needed some chocolate. Maybe for Rudy to serve it to her with a shirt off, but he loved to irritate her and more often than not had a shirt on. Irritating man. "Good bye Rudy" The conversation was mostly one sided, mostly because now she needed to go talk to the chef's in the back, change a few things around, and she needed to make a few calls. That little italian bitch wasn't going to find a job any time soon. Not if Emerson had anything to do with it.
And now all she had to do was wait for Rudy, he should know to go through the back door, but she busied herself throughout the entire restaurant, moving a few things around on different tables, both with her hands and not, simply making sure everything was ready. As she did every day. Even though Emerson hardly ever worked a day in her life, she hardly counted this as work, she was dedicated to her restaurant. Anyone could see that.
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TAG: Rudy
NOTES: I'm lame and didn't know where else to put it xD |
[/style][/td][/tr][/table] table made by MADAME MARIANNA of CAUTION 2.0[/center]
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Post by Rudolph Harvey Matheson on Jan 13, 2013 22:21:43 GMT -5
It was a normal day in the life of Rudy Matheson: get up, breakfast, water the basil, shower, get all squicked out because there was hair in the shower and clean it out (that damn woman was going to kill him with how much she shed...), walk around and clean shirtless while Sunny wasn’t there just to spite her, read a book, cook something, go back to reading, and scheme for a little while. There were only so many things that he could do in a day, and so the ever so brief time where he scribbled his ideas for toppling the government in his notebook were precious escapes from the reality that he was trapped in the middle of the world that he wished to destroy. Although life in the rebel camps hadn’t been this plush or easy by any stretch, it had at least been free in the sense that he could right almost anything he wanted and present it to the public, where he could make a difference. Here, he was worth approximately the same as a pampered house cat with all that he could effect changes
He was currently in the part of the day where after working out until he felt like he was going to collapse, he swam to get his muscles back to feeling normal. He was in the middle of taking a breath when he heard his phone ringing, the Star War’s Imperial March to be precise. He cursed and sprinted to the end of the pool nearest the lockers and climbed out of the pool, dripping water everywhere as he did so. He popped open his locker and quickly dried off his hands before answering the phone.
“Hel--,” he was quickly cut off by a near screaming Sunny as she ordered him to the restaurant. He stopped talking long enough to let her finish, tried to start again, and once more was cut off. He pursed his lips as he waited for her to stop. “Bye,” he said just before her phone clicked off. Damn woman. He sighed and grabbed the towel out of the locker before heading to the showers. Yes, he had to listen to her, no, he wasn’t going to go there smelling like chlorine. He stepped into the shower, letting the water rush over him and remove the chemical whose scent for so long had meant morning that the possibility that came with every day and every new meet, the possibility that maybe that day he would be a little bit better than the last. He still had that hope, even though some days he felt like he was stuck in a holding pattern over his own life, waiting for the moment that it would actually start again.
He walked out and dried off, getting dressed in a pair of jeans soft with age and an equally old and soft red tee shirt. He snapped on the bracer with the pet mark on it, his one piece of insurance against being taken back to the holding cells beneath the citadel. He grimaced at the thought of them, if the camps had been dirty, the cells were pure squalor. He shook his head, clearing the image, and slipped on his socks and yellow converse before stuffing all of his swimming stuff into a duffle. He walked out of the pool area and towards the stairs that would take him to the apartment he shared with his owner. He paused at the door and decided to be lazy and take the elevator. He pressed the button and to his luck, the doors opened for him. The ride wasn’t short, but neither was it long. The doors opened again at the door to the apartment, he slipped out his key and let himself in.
He dropped his bag in his room before heading to the bathroom to primp some more. The clock on the wall read that he had been at this delay game for twenty minutes, he could surely manage to get away with ten more. He splashed on come cologne before grabbing his jacket and a tray full of double chocolate brownies from the fridge. Those brownies alone would assure that he was forgiven for all of his sins. They were that good and he didn’t mind saying so himself. He’d impressed his mother and a meeting full of calorie starved sorority alumnae with this recipe, if could surely stand up to the anger of one Sunny Remington in all of her vampire glory. Some days, he was fairly sure that his chest and his cooking were the only reasons that she put up with him, even if they did have fun most of the time.
The walk from the apartment wasn’t that long. He managed to wave at the hostess out back getting a smoke break before stepping in through the back door and walking past dry storage and the rather large walk-in fridges and freezers. This was one of the highest capacity restaurants to spring up in the wake of the war. Most of the humans who had been chefs in the era before had even been snapped up by the citadel or by wealthy vamps to be used as personal chefs. The few that remained free were bitter, hard bitten men and women who had become very comfortable using their precious high carbon and stainless steel knives as weapons. The thought made him wonder what had happened to Renard, the angry Canadian who had taught him to cook. Was he free, deftly cutting venison into small pieces for a mostly meatless stew? Or was he stuck in some vamp’s kitchen somewhere, cooking his beloved French food all day? Either seemed likely.
“You called?” he asked as he arrived in the kitchen, holding out the tray of brownies to Sunny. The kitchen looked more chaotic than usual, like some integral part was missing from the well oiled machine. Cooks rushed past him, cursing their assistants, while the waitstaff moved in a flurry, trying to get their hands onto the few pieces of shift meal that were waiting. Yes, something was most definitely missing from this picture.
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note: o.o here he is. words: 2^10 (1024)
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Post by sunny on Jan 13, 2013 23:55:09 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 550px][atrb=cellpadding,0,true] andillbehereinthemorning
if you say stay to me
Where was he? She had gone to the bar, making sure that the bartender had checked all of the stocked alcohol, then over to the kitchen, reassuring them that a replacement would obviously be there, and that they'd have to deal with the changes that she had told them about. Of course it'd upset half the staff that she had fired the little italian spitfire, but most of them were relieved. None of them had liked her anyways. So now people were running around, trying to fill the spot of one chef while doing the job of another chef. And once more, he was still not here. She'd explained who was coming to fill the spot, and some of the cooks were a bit disgruntled that a mere pet was going to cook beside them, to which she'd snapped that he was a better cook than all of them combined. Regardless of if it was true or not, it was enough to shut them up. No one wanted to mess with Emerson, especially when she was already riled up from the little italian chef.
She was constantly glancing at the clock, and her irritation was not going away with each minute. There was no excuse for him to be taking so long, and he should KNOW that if she had him come to La Reve it was important. Or at least incredibly important to her. She hated when things were misplaced, whether it be something at her home, or here at the restaurant, she found it was her biggest pet peeve. And things were not quite where they were suppose to be right now. The wait staff were scurrying around, grabbing whatever food they could before their shifts, and she snapped at a few of them who had paused for a moment too long. Finally she slammed a hand down on the bar counter, frustrated because Rudy still wasn't there. And after thirty minutes! Just as she was about to whip her phone out and call him again, she spotted him coming through the door. Her eyes narrowed as she made her way over to him, some of the chef's eying him as he passed, though when they saw Emerson making her way over they didn't bother sticking around for long.
He brought chocolate. For that she was relieved, she had a very bad habit of eating chocolate when she was upset and she immediately reached for the tray. Thirty minutes ago Rudolph. Hurry up." The chocolate would have to wait though, even though she knew they'd be delicious, she had to get things figured out and running smoothly first. She snapped at one of the wait staff, telling them to take the brownies to her office and then to stop lounging around. There were always things to do in the restaurant, no reason for anyone to be lounging around. With the exception of Emerson herself of course. "I had to fire that annoying italian bitch, you need to fill in for her" She wasn't going to give him a choice on this one, not when it concerned her restaurant. She lead him into the kitchen, ignoring any and all looks from the other workers already busying themselves with getting things ready. "If there's something you need, you ask him" Points to a young man who was hovering. "Here's what's on the menu for tonight, if you need to know how to make something, ask one of the other chefs" Though she was fairly certain he knew how to make everything.
She handed him the menu to look over, irritation still plain across her face, and she was eager to go eat the brownies that he had brought. She was still upset he took so damn long to get here, but he was here now, she reasoned, and he'd do a good job and things would be just fine. She just needed to sit down for a moment after this.
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TAG: Rudy
NOTES: I have NO idea why its so short! I'm sorrrrry! |
[/style][/td][/tr][/table] table made by MADAME MARIANNA of CAUTION 2.0[/center]
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Post by Rudolph Harvey Matheson on Jan 16, 2013 15:22:46 GMT -5
As he stood in the kitchen and listened to her absolutely insane request, his mind went blank for a moment, flashing back to the first chef he had worked for back in the day. All he remembered was the man screaming and tearing him down the first three days he had worked in that kitchen. Perhaps thats why he was so good at dealing with crabby Sunny. After that day though, all of the days had blended together into one big mess of a time period where everything was relatively the same. Cook, break, cook more, collapse for a few hours, somehow manage to get back out of bed and go to mixers and parties and even a class or two here and there. Those had been the days, back in his early twenties, where his body could stand up to the terrors that he was putting onto it. Now, in the name of staying young, he had to do things like eat right and worry about getting a workout from time to time. He was, in the end, getting older, and some days the strained muscles from swimming made their presence known. Luckily, today wasn’t one of those days.
After Sunny’s request and sarcastic comments processed through his mind, he looked at her, eyes a little harder than was probably respectful, but fuck all, that was what was needed at the moment. “You do know that it has been ten years since I worked on anything remotely resembling a line, correct?” he asked,feeling the glares of the cooks in the kitchen around him. There were plenty of reasons for them to not be comfortable with the fact that he was invading their kitchen. Not only was he rusty, but he was the only one among them who wasn’t a vampire. He was, very obviously, an invader in the little established kingdom that was the kitchen at La Reve. Albeit she was the owner and she was more involved than any owner Rudy had ever seen, Sunny still failed to understand the egotistical and quite self-absorbed nature of cooks, something that she should at least somewhat understand after seeing him freak out in the kitchen back at their home. Cooks and owners were in a constant battle for who was actually in charge of the restaurant. There was a limit on the number of times a cook, chef, or even dishwasher would deal with the owner telling them how the kitchen should work.
He shook his head and took the menu and the specials sheet. Thankfully, he’d tested many of the recipes for these dishes in what he liked to call ‘his’ kitchen. And the specials, well, they were delineate on the sheet and simple enough to complete. With all of that in hand, he walked to the wall where the white coats and aprons were hanging. For a moment, he set down the lists to slip into one, the seams rubbing at the t-shirt made him thankful that he was wearing the shirt underneath. Deftly, he buttoned up the coat, his hands finding the buttonholes as naturally as if it had been yesterday that he was stepping into the steam and the heat of the first kitchen that he had worked in. He pushed his hair back, grabbed a baker’s cap, and slipped it on. He felt strangely at home now that this action had been completed, even if the majority of the room looked down on him and was unsure that he would be able to do what he needed to. He picked up the menu and the specials. He was ready to go to war.
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note: o.o here he is. words: 609
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Post by sunny on Jan 17, 2013 0:20:02 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 550px][atrb=cellpadding,0,true] andillbehereinthemorning
if you say stay to me
She didn't like that look. Not one bit and her eyes narrowed dangerously as he spoke. To question her after she had given him what could be considered an order was pushing it. And she didn't have time for his bullshit. "Yes Rudy, I know, but like I said, I'm down a chef and I need you to do this." She was rather calm in her reply, which when you knew Em was angry was never a good thing, she always got quieter the more pissed off she was. It didn't matter if he hadn't been in a line for a long while, she needed him to do this, the least he could do is shut the hell up and do as she asked. She wouldn't hesitate to pull rank, not here, not in front of her employees. And if he didn't want to be put back into his place right here then he'd better have the sense to do as she asked. Sure, she would feel a bit bad for it later because she knew he was not exactly a fan of the whole pet thing, but this was her business. And she'd do whatever it took to keep it running.
He ended up conceding though, without another word and she watched him for a few moments as he donned the apron, coat, and cap. She crossed her arms, taking one long look at the kitchen as it buzzed on around her before turning on her heel and walking out of the kitchen. He was on his own now. Everyone in the kitchen had been warned that he was to be treated as another chef, not a human, and that if ANYONE touched him they would find themselves out of a job and black listed from the city. She made it very very clear that Rudy was hers and that any harm, either physical or not, bestowed upon him was a direct threat to herself. And she did not tolerate threats. At all. And if they were smart they would listen, because Emerson was not a woman to be trifled with, especially when it concerned things that belonged to her. She made one last check around the restaurant before going back to her office where the brownies sat upon her desk. She let out a sigh, shutting the door and moving to sit down, grabbing a brownie and taking a bite out of it.
Heaven. That's how it tasted. She'd have to remember to thank Rudy for bringing them, even if he had been late. The safest way to reach a happy Emerson was through chocolate, something Rudy seemed to know very well. She leaned back into her chair, eating just one more brownie before picking up an expense report. There was a bit of paper work she needed to shuffle through before the night was over, and now that she had Rudy here she'd obviously be staying until it either slowed enough for her to bring him home or until they closed. Either way most of the night she would spend in her office, or occasionally out on the floor chatting with a few of the customers that came in regularly. Once or twice she poked her head into the kitchen, scanning the progress and making sure Rudy was still in one piece before ducking out and heading back to whatever it was she was doing. By the time closing time came around she had finished off the tray of brownies (Rudy was definitely going to succeed in getting her fat) and worked through all the paperwork that needed to be done.
It was late, time to close down, and Em had been out on the floor talking with a few of her old friends, her mood having improved immensely over the course of the night. That had to do with the brownies of course, and the fact that the cutest man had been flirting with her at the bar a while ago, it was almost a shame that she couldn't bring him home with her. Such a cute face. She turned away as the group of friends left, having stayed well past closing time, and she immediately peeked her head into kitchen, noting that they had most everything either cleaned up or on it's way to be clean. "Rudy, will you come with me please?" None of the chefs seemed to mind her calling Rudy away from the kitchen, probably the prejudice against humans running high in that group. Though they all did note her improved mood, something that was always a relief, an angry Emerson was not a fun person to work for. She turned away from the kitchen again, moving down to her office and shutting the door when he moved in.
On her desk was already a large glass of water, she was sure that he would be thirsty, and a glass of red wine, which was hers. She moved to pick up the glass and take a drink, smiling at him lightly. "That wasn't so bad was it?" She, of course, had no idea if it really was bad or not, she hadn't checked in with him THAT much throughout the night, but she hadn't heard any complaints from anyone. "I know it was a bit short notice Rudy, but I do appreciate you helping me" She leaned against the desk, facing one of the chairs that was sitting in her office, a plush comfy one that she enjoyed sitting in more often than the chair behind her desk.
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TAG: Rudy
NOTES: I'm lame and didn't know where else to put it xD |
[/style][/td][/tr][/table] table made by MADAME MARIANNA of CAUTION 2.0[/center]
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Post by Rudolph Harvey Matheson on Jan 23, 2013 12:47:38 GMT -5
There were a lot of things that he had forgotten about cooking on a line. From the sound of being surrounded by the sizzle of everyone else’s pans as they worked on the dishes specific to them and their station, to the sound of the expediter shouting orders like military commands to the group. There was a terrific thrill to being back in the back of house. He’d forgotten what a rush he’d gotten even on the worst nights, when working in a restaurant was definitely better than sitting in class and wonder what drivel was going to come out of the mouths of his professors that day. He’d forgotten the camradarie even, although here that was given grudgingly, more because he was the boss’ pet than because of his chops as a cook. He wasn’t the fastest moving in the kitchen, that was sure, but he hung on to the pace as hard as he could, watching each pan and each plate moving in front of him with a singular focus. There was no room to think about life, about rebellion, about how to take down the Monarch, there was only time for the food.
In the slight pause as the early dinner crowd and the late crowd were in transition, he took a breath and realized with clarity something that he seemed to forget quite often: he could have been a chef. He could have had all of this as his own, if only he hadn’t gone to journalism school. Of course, that idea was promptly squashed by the remembrance that he didn’t want to work with egotistical maniacs with knives all the time. As much as he had the mindset and the ability to be one of them, he wanted to be the only egotistical maniac in his life. No more, no less. He’d rather have someone write a scathign review of him than have a finely sharpened, well honed knife pointed at him in a moment of rage. Albeit the pen is mightier than the sword or knife, the pen is less likely to result in permanent loss of limbs.
The hours ticked by, one plate after another coming out of his station. Time, however, seemed to stand still and in those moments he achieved as close as he could get to culinary greatness on this one evening. There even came a point where the constant glares and jabs in his direction stopped, the team moving forward as one with him as a member. There was no time for anger or prejudice or wondering why him, there was just time for the food and for the blank slate of his mind to rely on instinct to ensure that the food was perfect.
The night wound to a close, the orders coming in less and less frequently, the sounds from the front of house becoming lower and lower. As the night drew in around them, he was cleaning his station and ensuring that as much as he was a human, he could indeed keep up with the vampires around him. There was no rush as he wiped down the steel surface that for the night had been his or as he started packing up what he could save from his mise and throwing out the rest. There was no rush, there was no pressure, there was no thought.
His break from thought and conscious existence came when Sunny’s vice shattered the idyl that he was, in fact, equal to his peers. The thinly disguised command was sure to cause some snickering behind his back, for although they could all get the same command, he was the only one absolutely bound to follow it. He finished wiping down and cleaning for the night before following her into the office. He saw two things of interest: a glass of wine and a rather cushy looking chair. He moved to grab for the wine glass, but was forced to redirect towards the water as she took his goal. Glass in hand, he settled into the chair, looking up at her.
“The same as any line, really, once things got busy and they forgot for a moment that I am human and thus a menu item,” he said, taking a sip of the water. It really was quite strange, the food acting for a moment as the cook. He felt more and more sympathy towards Remy in Ratatouille as he considered it. Neither of them were expected to be more than something to be looked down on, and yet they could cook. There was a certain irony in that.
He sighed. “Glad to help, but, next time you fire someone, do it after their shift ends. It will make everyone happier on the line, no worries about who might be next or anger about being short- or human-staffed.” He took a sip of the water, it was refreshing, but his eyes still strayed towards the wine. All he wanted was something to relax the muscles that he could already feel stiffening. This was age. When he was younger, he could work a shift like that and feel fine the next day. Now, he could almost feel the oncoming cramps in the morning, the stiffness in his back and the ache in his feet. He was not in the kind of shape for cooking, nor was he accustomed to the everyday aches that came with it anymore. He’d been pampered and allowed too much indolent time for freedom recently, even though that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
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note: new book, coming soon: the zen of cooking by rudy matheson >.> words: 925
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Post by sunny on Jan 29, 2013 20:05:10 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 550px][atrb=cellpadding,0,true] andillbehereinthemorning
if you say stay to me
She needed to find a new cook soon. She'd start looking tomorrow, though look wasn't quite the right word. There were many many different chefs that would eagerly work in her restaurant, all she needed to do was make a few phone calls, have a few interviews, and chose who she wanted to work in her kitchen. Preferably someone who wouldn't be a complete royal bitch. That was not going to happen again. Not if she could help it. Emerson hadn't missed Rudy's attempt for the wine glass, though she made no comment on it, merely took a sip from the glass as he settled himself into the chair. If she was going to be completely honest she found Rudy very very attractive. Part of the reason that she had snagged him in the first place, Emerson liked what she saw, and Emerson always got what she wanted.
Emerson wasn't stupid, she knew that there were a lot of people who disliked Rudy, well, more specifically the Tracker. That itself could end up getting her into a bit of trouble, it was never good to have a council member disliking you, but she was in a cozy spot. Her grand-father basically funded the Monarch, and she knew she had Lucian wrapped around her finger. There was no guarantee that Emerson would be able to use her family's status to her advantage, but Rudy was hers and she would do whatever it took to protect him, and if that meant pissing the Monarch off then so be it. She was getting lost in thought again, her gaze having gone towards the door, only idly paying attention to Rudy. "Glad you enjoyed yourself" She murmured lightly. Emerson wouldn't ever understand the difficulties that Rudy faced as a pet, as a human, in the society that the present day world found itself in.
She had been born into a high place in society, even before the vampires took over. She couldn't possibly understand his point of view, because in all honesty, Emerson was a spoiled rich brat. Oh, she knew she was, and she didn't particularly care if that is how others viewed her, but she couldn't envision herself in the shoes of anyone of a lower class than her. It just wasn't possible for her. So when he griped about his status, or the monarch, or how society was now, she couldn't fully understand why he did so. Which made her a bit careless to any of his plights, sure she was fond of Rudy, not just because of his chest or his good looks, but he was entertaining as well, but she couldn't fully appreciate who Rudy really was, because she just didn't understand him or his point of view. And it didn't help that she believed she didn't NEED to appreciate Rudy for who he was.
He was merely a pet, a plaything, eye-candy that she enjoyed having around the house. Right? "I hardly need advice on how to run my business from you Rudy" She rose an eyebrow as he eyed her wine again, taking a slow and deliberate drink from the glass before smiling sweetly. "Besides, I wasn't aware you cared so much for the feelings of others" Perhaps she was still feeling some left over irritation by the chef she had fired, or maybe she was looking to rile him up. Either way, she ended up brushing him off, pushing herself off of her desk and walking behind it to a shelf that held all sorts of binders, books, and little trinkets. Her gaze swept over the shelf before a thick binder pulled itself from the shelf and into Emerson's open hand. She turned back to Rudy and smiled. "Are you ready to go home now?" The contents in the glass currently residing in her hand were quickly drained after that.
While Emerson was still a bit irritated over the days previous events, she did appreciate the fact that Rudy helped her, and she tended to award good behavior. She figured he'd enjoy the newest bottle of wine she had purchased the other day for the house, and by the way he was eying her glass he wouldn't object to it when she offered.
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TAG: Rudy
NOTES: here you are |
[/style][/td][/tr][/table] table made by MADAME MARIANNA of CAUTION 2.0[/center]
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Post by Rudolph Harvey Matheson on Feb 3, 2013 20:31:49 GMT -5
He laughed. “You mistake me, I don’t give a damn how they feel. I care about the food and distracted cooks are bad cooks and when you pull a stunt like that, you get distracted cooks,” he said. Although she was the owner of the restaurant, sometimes it seemed that this was more of a hobby for her rather than an actual vocation. It wouldn’t be hard to believe it if her grandfather had just given her the place so that she would shut up and stop asking him for things. He knew her type, he dated them in college. The spoiled rich girl who got everything she wanted, when she wanted it. Admittedly, he wasn’t much better himself, but his parents had expected that he be able to work. Despite being permanently busy between frat, school, and swimming, he’d also worked quickie night shifts for a local restaurant to have a little bit of spending cash.
He hadn’t had an unblessed childhood, that was for sure, but it was one where he was expected to work for a lot of things. Both his parents worked and made sure that he knew that they weren’t making their way on mommy and daddy’s money either. As much as his family powerplayed and worked to find the best connections, every generation was as annoyingly entrepreneurial and motivated as the last. There were simple expectations for the Mathesons, namely that they be able to support themselves. It was an old family attitude, held onto from the days of the depression when the family was fighting to keep the family business afloat. His mother’s family was equally stubborn and it showed. He’d spent years fighting to stay involved in everything in college while at the same time winning at academics.
He finished the water in a few gulps, enjoying the cool that came from it. It wasn’t wine, but it would do. It was important to hydrate and although he was a fan of being hydrated, he would be damned if he didn’t want the wine that she was currently holding in her hand.
He nodded at the suggestion of going home. “Yep, let me get my stuff together and we can be on our way,” he said, standing and putting the cup on the desk. He then walked out and pulled off the sweaty cap. He looked around for a laundry hamper, catching sight of the overflowing bag of stained white towels and coats out of the corner of his eye. He tossed the cap in, took off his apron, and started unbuttoning the jacket to throw it in as well. Underneath, he was drenched from being over the range for as long as he had been. The light cotton of the t-shirt clung to him as he tossed the shirt in and returned to the office. He didn’t look at his shoes, he was going to have to wash them, he knew, but he didn’t want to know what the damage was at this point.
“Ready?” he asked, leaning against the frame of the door. There was very little else to do at the moment, except wait on her. If he was lucky, she’d remember to grab the tray that had held the brownies that she had so unceremoniously destroyed while he worked his ass off. The likelihood was low, but he could hope. All that being as it was, it was still most likely that he was going to have to go in and grab it to make it sure that the tray made it home and back into his kitchen.
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note: blargh words: 600
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Post by sunny on Feb 19, 2013 14:43:57 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 550px][atrb=cellpadding,0,true] andillbehereinthemorning
if you say stay to me
Irritation flashed across her face as her lips pulled down into a slight frown at his retort. Pull a stunt like that. Excuse me? Her eye narrowed ever so slightly and took a long, slow drink from her wine glass. He was getting much too comfortable with talking back to her, she didn't appreciate that in the least. "Watch your tone Rudy, I'm not in the mood for your mouth" Of course, the famous Remington temper that she shared with her grand-father colored her own tones, neither Lucian or his grand-daughter tolerated people disrespecting them in any way, and for a long moment she stared at him before feeling that her warning was satisfactory and she took one more drink from the wine glass. It wasn't unknown that Emerson had a wicked temper and a nastier bite, and while she was attracted to Rudy and he did amuse her, he pissed her off just as much. Enough to have her reconsidering letting him have that nice wine bottle at home. Of course had she known the thoughts that ran through his head, the things he thought about her, she surely wouldn't be willing to share anything with him.
Emerson was spoiled, it was a fact, and she had indeed gotten the money for this place from her grand-father, but she worked damn hard to make sure it was her own money that kept it running. She might not understand that cooks were temperamental and she couldn't always look at it with a business perspective, but she sure as hell expected to be listened too and for things to go her way. She was the boss anyways, the cooks can do what they were told or they can walk out the door. It was as simple as that. Of course it really wasn't as simple as that, but it was what Emerson expected it to be so therefore that was how it was. She merely nodded as he told her he would go gather his things, and then placing his glass on her desk and leaving her office. She sighed as soon as he left her alone and set her glass next to the water glass, sometimes she wondered what in the world possessed her to snatch Rudy. Oh yes. His abs. An amused grin smoothed its way onto her face at that particular thought. It wasn't an unknown fact that Emerson was vain, and that she also only liked the prettier things surrounding her.
She reached for the tote bag that sat next to her desk, already half filled with a dozen small binders, sliding the binder in her hand into said bag before placing it on her desk, gathering a few more things she wanted to take home with her, including the pan the brownies were on, thank you very much. Emerson liked her office neat, the pan laying around wouldn't exactly be keeping the office neat now would it? She moved over and reached for her coat, slipping it on as Rudy walked back through her door, her eyes immediately going to take in how his shirt clung to him. She surely did appreciate a nice looking guy. Emerson slung the tote bag over her shoulder, walking over to him to thrust the pan into his hands. "Of course" She replied curtly before turning, glancing into her office to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything before flipping the light switch and shutting the door, locking it as she didn't trust anyone to not snoop around her office. After that was done she paused a moment to speak with someone, making sure that they knew to remember to make sure the freezer and cooler doors were shut, and that everything was locked for the night.
Finally she moved to exit the building, glancing over at Rudy and expecting him to follow. The air was cold and bitter, but she didn't particularly mind it, instead she found that it was nice as she started walking back to her home. She enjoyed the short walks from La Reve to her apartment, and she found herself lapsing into silence, most of the time these short walks were for her to reflect on things, usually she didn't have a companion, so Rudy was just going to have to deal with the silence until they got home. They stepped into the building and Emerson moved to the elevators, pressing the button and waiting impatiently for the doors to open. "I think I am going to redecorate the living room tomorrow" And by I, she meant Rudy, a small smirk on the corner at her lips at that thought, she glanced over at him, smiling a bit. "I don't quite like the way it is now" The doors to the elevator opened and she stepped in, turning and pushing the button for their floor, fingers curling over the strap to the bag slung over her shoulder.
She didn't much care if Rudy protested about redecorating the living room, she wasn't going to be at La Reve long tomorrow and she wasn't going to come home just to be idle. She'd thought of going to visit her grand-father but passed it off. Perhaps she could get Rudy to work hard enough to take his shirt off. Her lips twitched into a smile at that thought. It was almost ridiculous how obsessed she was with Rudy's looks. Of course she didn't care one way or another. She stepped off the elevator as the doors opened, making her way to the door, slipping her key into the lock and opening the door, mentally flicking the lights on as she moved through the roomy apartment. Emerson could afford the very best, and even if she herself couldn't Lucian wouldn't have let her live in anything but the best. She set the tote down on the floor next to the couch, she'd look at those later, before heading into the kitchen, pursing her lips as she searched for a particular wine bottle, feeling rather lazy she tilted her head to the side, watching a cupboard open and two wine glasses floating out and down onto the counter, before a wine bottle followed from its place on the rack.
She turned to Rudy then, frowning a bit as she eyed him again. As much as she liked how his shirt clung to him, she didn't like that he was all sweaty. "Why don't you go shower, I'll leave this out on the counter for you" She motioned to the wine bottle before turning, opening the bottle and pouring a glass for herself, intent on moving to the couch, sitting down and pulling the binder out to start flipping through it.
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TAG: Rudy
NOTES: And I thought I was losing my muse <.< |
[/style][/td][/tr][/table] table made by MADAME MARIANNA of CAUTION 2.0[/center]
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Post by Rudolph Harvey Matheson on Mar 4, 2013 17:48:02 GMT -5
In the mood for it or not, she should already know that he wasn’t phased by the fact that she didn’t approve of him talking back or somedays merely making his opinion known. He shrugged noncommittally. There was no way on this green earth that he was going to win that argument with her. He knew from experience. He’d tried and failed many times to get her to understand why he mouthed off and each and every time, he was quickly shut down by a glare and some kind of threat. It really wasn’t worth the headache to fight her, especially while he had Sampson’s words ringing in his head. There really was too much food in the restaurant. Surely it wouldn’t be noticed if some of it went missing every now and again. Or if some just went missing off the truck. And it would help the camp survive. It really was a tempting idea, although he was still trying to see if it would work out, logistically speaking.
Waiting for her to finish up with one of her well paid minions, he played with the idea in his head. There really was something so tempting about it. He wasn’t sure whether it was just the blatant disobedience that it required that egged him on, or the urge to help the camp. Likely, it was a combination of the two. He was always up for a bit of uncivil disobedience and raising some hell. That was what he had been brought in for, after all. He had never been a well behaved member of this society and he never intended to be one. He’d stood up to the Tracker’s interrogation about the camp, ignoring everything outside his own mind. He’d kept silent by mentally reciting the ceremonies that he’d led in college. He remembered the words and above all, he remember the importance of their secrecy. The same went for the camp. One life experience protected the other.
He followed her out into the street, lost in his own thoughts as they walked home. The silence wasn’t unexpected, nor was it uncomfortable. He had one last chance at glory, one last chance to make a difference for his own kind. Living in the city, he was insulated from those opportunities, generally kept away from the majority of other pets for fear that he would cause an uprising (he’d surely try to). He had to take that one chance, didn’t he? He had to look everything that was wrong with the system straight in the face and say no. Every day that the camp survived was one more day that humans had their freedom and that those who were trapped had a chance to get theirs back. There really was no choice, was there?
“Like everything else, I’m fairly sure it’s yours,” he said, shrugging. He was tired and he really couldn’t care less if she decided to redo the living room. Of course, he’d probably care in the morning, when she woke him up to do all of the heavy lifting. But for now, the time spent in the kitchen was starting to seep into his bones and muscles and he could feel the beginnings of the dull soreness that would accompany him for the next few days. Age, what a pain in the neck. Despite working out everyday and making chocolate confections on a regular basis, he was being floored by what he had done what felt like every night in his youth. He did not appreciate the protests that he was sure would be coming from his muscles. But there was nothing much that he could do other than shower, sleep, drink wine, and, if he was desperate, take some painkillers. But that was a far off chance. Wine and a shower sounded like better medicine than chemicals. Again, something he’d probably care about in the morning.
He nodded and wandered towards the bathroom, finally catching sight of the fine yellow converse he’d worn that day. They weren’t ruined, lucky for him, but they would take a decent amount of work to get clean, but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle. In the bathroom, he turned on the tap to hot and let steam fill the room as he stripped down and stepped in. The hot water pounding down on his shoulders did wonders for his muscles, he could already feel the tension releasing in them. Quickly enough, he scrubbed down and stepped out, squeaky clean. He wrapped himself in a towel and made the traverse of the hall from the bathroom to the room he called his to change. He slipped into pajama bottoms and another old and soft t-shirt before heading to the kitchen and uncorking the wine. He poured two glasses, but pointedly stood in the kitchen as he swirled the glass, watching the wine coat the sides of the glass.
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note: ... the sass master is tired and grumpy, oh my. words: 817
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Post by sunny on Mar 28, 2013 12:33:36 GMT -5
Her lips pursed at his reply to her statement about redoing the living room. Well then, wasn't he just in a fantastic mood today? It might be because she had drug his ass out to her restaurant and then made him work the entire night away in a hot kitchen with a bunch of bitchy vampire chef's that didn't appreciate having to work with a human. Regardless, she wasn't about to let his attitude ruin her fairly decent mood so she only turned her head away from him. There were times that they both pissed each other off and while Emerson believed that Rudy should never intentionally piss her off (for the good of his health) he still did so. The rebellious little ass. Of course she was fond of him, so therefore she let it slide more than she would had it been anyone else. And he had a fantastic face. Emerson certainly appreciated pretty things.
Their trip back to the apartment was mostly quiet until they reached the inside, where Emerson told Rudy to go take a shower as she didn't really want to smell the sweat and grease on him. He trudged off while she got out a bottle of wine and two glasses, wine that she was willing to let him have even though he constantly irritated the hell out of her. And then she moved to settle herself onto the couch, grabbing the binder that held all the details about various chef's she could pull from other restaurants and put in hers. She wasn't afraid to do that either, take a top chef from someone else just so she could have them in her place. Business was a ruthless place, and she was most certainly equipped to handle it, just look at who was her grand-father. She'd inherited his ruthless personality it seemed, partly the reason he seemed so fond of her.
She barely glanced up as she heard the shower stop and Rudy come back out to the kitchen, pouring wine into the two glasses. She was flipping through the book idly and after a moment, her head tilted up and she looked over her shoulder, an eyebrow raising. "Are you going to stand there all night? I'd have assumed you'd want to sit down after being on your feet for so long" She turned her head back to the book, shrugging her shoulders. "But feel free to continue to stand there" She had an odd mix of irritation and calmness going on within her. She was happy that Rudy had been there to help out at the restaurant, but she was still irritated with the rebellious nature he kept throwing in her face. When was he going to see that she was probably the only thing standing between him and a very unpleasant end?
She had no doubt in her mind that if she slipped up and allowed Rudy to get snatched back by Anthony that he'd be completely screwed. Lately she had been wondering why she was harboring Rudy so, was it still because she wanted to piss off the Tracker? Or was it as much because she wanted to protect him as for that previous reason? She wasn't so sure anymore. Still, the fact was, she was protecting him, and all he would do was pout all over the fucking house and make her life difficult when he should have been thanking her and being a good boy. "I do hope you'll be making more brownie's tomorrow" Chocolate. A weakness that she'd willingly give into if it was Rudy's cooking. And she was still irritated, so brownies would be fantastic for her mood. Even if she was completely sure that she'd get fat eating all his good cooking. Tag: Rudy Words: 663 Notes: Allll over the place, sorry xD
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Post by Rudolph Harvey Matheson on May 21, 2013 22:23:43 GMT -5
Showers were the great unknown’s gift to mankind. Sure, vampires might be able to appreciate them in someway, or remember in that vague human part of their mind why showers were amazing, but it really took being human to put it into perspective. There were few things that were at the same time as rejuvenating and relaxing and mind clearing as a simple shower. Hell, all be told there was only really one thing that even compared and that was best when followed by a shower. Well, and cuddling if it was required by the other participant. He could still smell the soap that he’d used (he’d made a mistake and grabbed hers rather than his and the fruityness showed as much) and it reminded him that slipping back into the warm water was only a few steps away from him. There was warmth and some semblance of happiness there. It was one of those luxuries that wasn’t in the camp. Cleanliness there was limited to what a bowl of hot water and a washcloth could get to, which meant that everything was always a little bit grimy.
Watching the wine spin in front of him, he thought about the life that he was living. It was something out of some kind of novel, he was sure. Not that he read many of those, he’d never been a serial escapist into the fantasies of others. He’d been a strictly real-world man until the world spun out of control and into what was something out of those novels that he’d been so strongly avoiding throughout his life and career. What a shocker that had been, that all of the fantasists were right and that the realists had been wrong. Of course, it hadn’t been the romantic hero vampires, no, it had been a harsher breed, built for one thing: killing. The original rise to power of the vampires had been less the romance fest that their fans expected and more of the blood that his type were used to. It had been pretty much like any war he had studied and the wars that were in progress and brought to a grinding halt.
He wasn’t sure where he stood on the whole new world order thing. Well, he was sure, but he wasn’t sure how it affected him anymore. Not only was he insulated from the worst of the reality that was faced by humans, he knew that he could never get back to that reality in its entirety, he’d be shot as soon as he stepped out of the city unaccompanied by Sunny or another vampire. That was his life. He was persona non grata in the eyes of the Tracker, a bad place to be. But if it was necessary, he could provide a damn good decoy in the name of human freedom. He prayed that time never came and that he wouldn’t have to test that theory. As her comments filtered in through the haze of his introspection, he rolled his eyes. Pet really was an accurate term. He was fairly sure that he’d heard that same tone used with misbehaving cats and dogs in the past. It wasn’t really Sunny that he resented. No, she was good to him and a sight for sore eyes. No, it was everything that she stood for. There wasn’t a moment where he wasn’t aware that her family had been one of the groups to make this entire brave new world possible. But that was over, it was done, and this was his life now.
“I was thinking more of a mousse, brownies are just so heavy,” he said as he sank into the couch next to her. He wasn’t going to be able to sulk all night and it wasn’t as if this was all going to disappear in a snap of his fingers. And besides, there were good things to being stuck with the vampires. Showers and cleanliness and fresh food. He was getting soft if that was all it took to convince him that vampires weren’t pure evil, but so be it.
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note: ... introspection words: 681
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