Chh-ht. Chh-ht

Receipts were piling up by the ticket machine, his sous was fucking around in the walk-in, his back was killing him (he'd fallen asleep on the couch last night - rookie movie) and he desperately needed a cigarette.

"Order in. Two ribeye, mid-rare. One duck, well-done." Adam barks, slamming a heavy sauté pan onto the burner. "Who the fuck orders duck well-done? I swear to God if it gets sent back..." He muttered, furiously pinning the ticket.

"Heard, Chef," the line choruses, voices thin and terrified.

Steam rolls off the pass, thick with the smell of reduced balsamic and searing animal fat. It clings to the damp fur of his tail, which is currently tucked tight between his legs - not out of fear, but as a necessity in a kitchen where half of it was on fire and the rest was a freshly sharpened chef's knife.

"Marco! I told you about the fucking chives - circles, not tubes! Cut them again!"

"Javier, if you've burnt those scallops, I will personally dunk your balls in the deep fryer."

"Where is my demi-glace? Marco! MARCO. If you're screwing one of the waitresses in the walk-in again -"

Adam's angry tirade was cut off midway through as a familiar face appears in his peripheral. Ally.

’Fuuuuuuuck.’ He thought to himself

His tail unsticks from his leg to give an involuntary wag, and he growls at himself, violently smoothing a hand down his own ass to make the appendage behave. He was a grown ass man, a professional, this was no time to get excited just because his favorite (no, least favorite. Most distracting. Worst.) server was near his territ- his kitchen.

"What do you want?" He means for it to come out as a growl, but it's more of a petulant mutter. He clears his throat aggressively. "Someone causing trouble, huh? Or you just slacking off?"

’God. Behave like a normal fucking person, mutt. they didn't do anything wrong.’ He thought to himself

He swiped a hand towel over his neck, and put his knife down. "Taking five!" He barked, fumbling a crumpled cigarette pack out from his pocket. He glanced at Ally over his shoulder, and then grimaced. "You want one?" He asked, looking physically pained. His shoulders hunched up defensively, like he was already bracing for rejection. "Shit... c'mon. Need a break." Fuck it. He'd make the decision for them both. He held open the door to the alley behind the kitchen, ears flat to his head. "Well?" He demanded. "You gonna make me be a doorstop all night or what?"