Soul: Restaurant and Bar
Soul caters only to the rich and famous. If you are not successful in the entertainment world, or are lacking several zeroes following a one on your pay check, you cannot afford to spend the night at Soul. People do not come to eat and drink here because they are celebrities, or property investors. They come for the entertainment of the staff, the beautiful scenery where they enjoy their meals, and the spectacular drinks invented by the bar staff themselves.
The staff that works at Soul want to work there. They want to please the customers, not out of obligation, rather because they wish to.
It is not without its dramas, however.
Professional and beautiful is the requirement to work at Soul, with the added knowledge of the job itself. Everyone that works here is model worthy. They have been approached by magazines, but they dedicated their life to Soul.
The pay is exceptional on its own. The tips they get from the customers keep them going for months on end. They work hard to get as many shifts as they can a week. There is a schedule to follow, and if they fail to stick to it, they will lose more shifts and credit.
Credit is something awarded to them by the boss. If she notices they have done particularly well that day by showing progression or becoming the topic of conversation amongst the customers in a positive way, they will be given credit. The more credit they have, the more opportunities for holiday time and shifts.
Shifts cannot afford to be lost. The more shifts they have, the more money they produce. It is that simple. If they mess up or cause grief for the boss, their shift will be handed to someone who is better qualified.
While competition thrives at Soul, the employees get along well with each other, and don't really appreciate when someone new decides to walk into their territory.
That is what is currently happening right now.
A young man, mid-twenties, standard height, is starting fresh at Soul today. He prepared himself for whatever he may encounter. He is known for having a wild temper, and he is going to do his level best to keep it under wraps today.
If anyone gave him trouble, he would imagine hurting them in a thousand different ways when he is in the privacy of his own home. Right now, he has work to start.
He is nervous. He is not aware that all the other staff members know everything about him already. They sat down and read through his profile—the boss's orders. They were told to be fully prepped for his first day, so they did not look unprofessional.
The only thing they are in the dark about is his appearance.
Cleverly, she left out a picture of the new employee so the wolves would not start lusting over the new piece of meat before he even got there. She knew exactly what her team would be like, and if she had allowed them a good look at the new addition, she was certain that temptation would be in the air.
Ichigo Kurosaki is an attractive individual. His skin is flawless, though his eyes and lips are undeniably the peak of his eternal beauty. They were the part of him that granted him a higher chance in receiving employment at Soul. The boss herself found moments when she unsuccessfully engaged in eye contact—instead drifting to his soft, almost shimmering pink lips. Partial guilt riddled her following the end of his interview, however she had a brain for business, and knew wholeheartedly those features would attract more customers.
She was not wrong. As the anxious new employee ambles through the customer section of the restaurant, numerous eyes monitor his every movement, focusing on the structure of his face, the intensity of his melted chocolate brown hues, and the way his prominent buttocks swayed from side to side—his skin tight jeans highlighting the shape vividly.
Ichigo fails to recognize this, intent on getting to work immediately.
He did not want to make a bad impression on the long-time workers of Soul. In fact, his plan is to project himself as an easy going, carefree, ambitious individual. How they perceive him could make or break his position here.
Although his temper could rival Julia Caesar's, the plan for the following few weeks is to remain tranquil, even under the pressure. Before achieving the job here, Ichigo spent a night with his family at Soul for Karin's sixteenth birthday. The staff had treated them like royalty, and it had been by far one of the best nights of his life.
He is no longer a customer, however.
Other employees do not have to tend to him like a king this time around. He is in the same shipment as them—here to work and entertain the customers the best he can.
When he arrives at the employee lounge, he is met with an older man whose hair falls perfectly to the middle of his spine, with skin that could put rare china plates to shame. Ichigo swallows fretfully, pushing himself to appear more presentable.
He plays with the front of his hair, determined to keep it out of his line of vision. When he comprehends that smoky grey eyes are currently judging his every action, the position of his mop is no longer a priority.
"Ichigo Kurosaki, I gather?"
An icy cold chill barrels along Ichigo's spine. This man's tone of voice demands respect, while holding multitudes of authority and wisdom only high achievers that worked their way to where they are now could possess.
His back straightens on its own accord—a desire to be recognised as a man of class, not a poor-postured infant.
Finding his voice, although tentative in this scenario, Ichigo succeeds in confirming the pristine man's gatherings. He feels foolish for acting out of character due to this man's pure presence. Normally, he lacks the knowledge of how to hold his tongue.
Ichigo discovers that the man estimating each detail about him is none other than Byakuya Kuchiki. Several years ago, he dedicated his life to travelling all over the globe, tasting original cuisine from favoured restaurants suggested to him by his fan base, for he had a glorified taste for wholesome food. Once he sampled the appraised dish, he would type up his thoughts and feelings about not only the food, but also the culinary skills of the staff there. When he came across Soul, he had nothing negative to say about the cuisine or the establishment.
During school, Ichigo read the book pertaining Byakuya's career as a food critic. It is called: Finding My Soul in Food. Ichigo could now see why it holds such a personal, yet unusual title. At the end of the book, Byakuya announces his resignation from the critiquing business.
Presently, Ichigo yearns to admit that he read the man's book, and that he genuinely felt it was a pleasant read.
If he says that, however, he senses that Byakuya will brush the compliment aside, as though it were a speck of dust on his shoulder. Ichigo figures that he has no time for chatting. Byakuya gives off the impression of being a no-nonsense type of assistant manager, hence for now, Ichigo will confine his appraisals.
"You understand that you will be working the bar today?" Byakuya inquires; his face a mask of seniority.
Ichigo forces himself to respond. "Yes. Yoruichi hired me as a bartender, sir," he mumbles, striving to not give off the impression he is clueless. He knows that he is not; nevertheless this man made a prison manager come across as nothing more than a patronising goat.
Byakuya hands him a list of their self-made cocktails. Ichigo has seen the register a number of times at his house, for Yoruichi sent it to him two weeks before his contract began at Soul. He knew every cocktail down to the finest detail, names and how to mix them.
"I know the list, sir!" Ichigo exclaims, eager to impress the raven haired man.
In reply, Byakuya takes the piece of paper away from him, leaving Ichigo with instructions to go and ask Grimmjow-identified by vibrant blue hair, to test Ichigo on his boldly claimed knowledge of their history of drinks.
A contained breath left the orangette seconds after Byakuya broke eye contact. He could not help feeling as though chains that were once binding him to the spot had suddenly broken, permitting him movement once more.
Recalling the orders of the assistant manager, Ichigo sought after the bar, aiming to find this man with the apparent aqua coloured hair. He would find this difficult to accept if he, himself, lacked an odd colour of his own.
Orange is not precisely noted down as normal in Japan.
Reaching the bar, his eyes instantly spot the head of blue hair bouncing as its owner shakes a cup and cocktail mixer determinedly. A handsome face manifests when he calls for attention, teal-irises regarding him momentarily—no recognition apparent in their depths.
"Are you Grimmjow? If so, I'm your new partner at the bar," he says, grateful that he discovered his voice again.
The blunet turns fully, granting the shorter male his undivided attention. "Oh? So, you're the new guy Yoruichi's been banging on about for the past week?" he confidently suspects, taking a moment to pour a drink for a nice couple sat at the bar stools. He offers them an endearing, yet sexy smirk, which has them both almost falling off their seats.
It is no lie that all the employees at Soul could land a job at Abercrombie and Fitch with perhaps just a smile alone. Ichigo is one of them now. And, Grimmjow is an excellent example to follow if he desires to be loved here.
Yoruichi touched on Grimmjow's work ethic in his interview a few weeks ago, saying how he is the greatest bartender she has ever had the fortune to hire and form a relationship with.
"Yeah, I am. Uh, the assistant manager told me to get you to quiz me on drinks. Can you do that?"
He has no understanding of why, however the longer the employees gazed at his eyes the more uncomfortable he became. He figures it may have something to do with how agonisingly attractive they all are, or it could be their exceeding experience.
"Sure, I can do that. What's the top cocktail?"
"Pantera."
"Which contains?" he smirks.
"Vodka, mixed with Blue Curacao, a spoonful of cranberry, filled with lemonade, and garnished with a lime-wedge. Umbrella is optional."
"Very good. And who made that wonderful cocktail?" His eyebrows leap suggestively.
Ichigo searches his memory. "Oh, wait, you made it!" he answers, sure of himself.
"Give the boy a cookie. All right, list the names of the top ten cocktails, from most popular to least popular," the well-built man challenges.
He listed them all perfectly, without hesitation.
"Yeah, I'll tell Byakuya that you passed the test. If you handle that side, I'll handle this one. Get familiar with where everything is quickly, okay?" Grimmjow more or less encourages the new bartender, immediately tending his next customer.
"What's your poison, beautiful?" he flirts, knowing full well that his charm is a large reason for his employment, other than his smouldering good looks.
The woman giggles flirtatiously, saying that she will have his trademark cocktail if he is up to it. He understands the implication of a potential hook-up disguised as a drink order, although she did not particularly get his motor running.
He prepares her drink in no time, pushing it towards her, while inserting a small umbrella in the centre, finishing the deal with a charming grin.
Ichigo had observed the exchange and took note—recollecting the advice from the boss to pay close attention to how Grimmjow works the bar and the customers. He could not help noticing the impressive tip he achieved with that small exchange, plus the phone number left to his decision.
"Hey, what can I get you?" Ichigo regards the voluptuous woman, attempting his most endearing smile. She returns the expression, requesting a gin and tonic and the name of the new handsome bartender. "Ichigo, miss, and my looks will only get me so far," he jests, winking at her before taking a firmly polished glass over to the gin-dispenser. He pours a single of gin, sets the glass on the bar, and then fetches the tonic water. "Do you come here often?" he makes conversation as he fills the glass, instantly garnishing it with a lime-wedge once it is the right amount.
Grimmjow keeps an ear handy, unbeknownst to the orangette.
"With you working, I'll definitely be here more often, sweetie," she flirts, paying for her drink before parting to return to her group of colleagues.
"Nice work, newbie."
Ichigo blanches. "Um, thanks."