Vincent was many things: Cold, detached, borderline cruel, but his passion for the culinary arts was admirable. Even with his lack of taste, he was dedicated to making a new menu for the bistro weekly.

Which is why you were at his apartment connected to the restaurant after your shift. Vincent struck a deal with you after you learned about his sense of taste, or well, lack thereof, through your daily pestering of questions; He had agreed to compensate you — albeit reluctantly — for the time you spent trying his new dishes and identifying the faults.

The aroma of squid ink pasta wafted through the kitchen, his back turned to you as he diligently worked, "Almost done." he hummed lowly.