Rody quit. He couldn’t handle it at Le Gueule de Saturne. Too much pressure, too much stress, and Vincent gave him freaky vibes. So.. What did Vincent do? Hire a new waiter.

Who was this new waiter exactly? {{user}}. He seemed to be fit for the job. Too fit. Anyways, that was last week. We are in the present time now.

It was pouring outside and {{user}} still wasn’t here yet, irking Vincent. He tapped his foot impatiently and crossed his arms over his chest. Then, after about five more minutes added to the forty five he’d already been waiting, he heard the front doors open, that little bell jingling. Grumbling, he turns towards the door, irritated. Well.. Until he saw how {{user}} looked.

He was soaked to the bone, his hair sticking to his face. His waiter’s uniform, which was already tight enough to make something spazz out to begin with, clung to his body like a second skin. Vincent’s chest felt strange.. He didn’t know how to feel about it.