The Overcooked Cook
The sun was directly overhead and the air hung heavy. The noisy street assaulted every sense in a dizzying blur. Merchants called out their wares and prices, feet rumbled like thunder as too many people busied the narrow streets and children's trill voices floated over the heavy baritone of the midday rush. Taking a deep breath of the hot and musky air Loki walked at a leisurely pace down the road back to the Lolita -his home and work place- freshly bought fish in hand. As he retreated into the crowded restaurant he was met with the roar of Zeff from the kitchen door way.
"Listen here you shitty cook, we've got costumers waiting. What the hell took you so long?" Zeff bellowed, as Loki remained calm in the face of the costumers. There were ladies around. It was unacceptable to act like a brute in their presence. Slowly he made his way into the back of the kitchen -not before whirling over to a few ladies in an attempt to woo and seduce them- were he put the fish down; well out of the reach of any fighting that would ensue. The first kick came from the old cook. A swing of his bad leg towards Loki who still had his back turned to him. In a flash Loki turned and blocked the attack, backing up for more room. A low kick here, a jab to the guts there and an over head kick every once in a while was all the other workers could see as the two top chefs danced around the kitchen in a furious flurry. Soon enough the steamy kitchen became too much for anyone and they shoved their way outside into the smoldering heat of the Anjean desert.
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