Sorry for the super short chapters. I just write bits here and there when I can. *sweatdrop* ^^


After the soup was taken out to the critic by Alphonse, I hung up my apron and went outside for some fresh air and alone time. Nobody tried to stop me. They all could tell I was in a bad mood. I sat down on the bottom step and rested my chin in my hands. The first critic to visit the new restaurant, all he orders is soup, and not even a good wine to go with it. What the hell was wrong with Americans? Were they all vegetarians now? I hoped not. I couldn't stew on this forever though. The dinner was done and gone. Now all I could do is wait for his response. I closed my eyes and wished for word to come soon.

After a while I opened my eyes again. Below me was a puddle in which I could see a faint outline of my new face. That reminds me, I haven't seen myself yet. I had never thought about the lack of mirrors in the kitchen before. Reaching up to touch my hair, I found it was thick and smooth. I pulled a bunch down in front of my eyes to see the color. It was a blackish-blue, just like my rat fur. Not as soft anymore though. I left the bunch go and felt it shift back into place on my head. Interesting sensation. I had to visit the bathroom mirror sometime before closing up the restaurant.

10 minutes later the door behind me opened. I jumped and twisted around where I sat to look up. I hoped it was Alphonse coming back with good news. Ego stood there instead, towering above me. And he was smiling. I raised one eyebrow in curiosity.

"The critic loved the soup. He says he'll write a great review about it back home." I sighed and managed a half smile. It was good news, but I still felt down. I couldn't help it, I had wanted so bad for this night to be perfect. I turned to cross my arms over my knees and rest my chin on my wrist.

"That's great," was all I could say. Ego took a few steps forward and bent down to sit beside me. I looked at him in apprehension. What was up with him suddenly being so friendly? Even after the whole Ratatouille incident he had remained a very lonesome person. A whole lifetime of acting a certain way can do that. But this…?

"I guess all you can hope for now is a French critic, eh?" he said, trying his best to sound cheerful. I nodded in response. We sat in silence for a while. After a bit I stretched my legs out and leaned back to look up at the sky. Tonight was not as cold, and the stars were far brighter than they usually were. I wished I could perch atop the roof again, to see the whole of Paris spread out around me, and the Eiffel Tower rising above it all against the horizon. The thought made me smile.

"Do you ever think about how beautiful Paris is?" I asked him.

"Nearly every day."

"I'd like to see it from the Eiffel Tower sometime. Tourists say its like standing in a glittering ocean of lights."

"They're quite right." I looked over at him and found he was looking at me too. Something suddenly fluttered in my stomach. I proded at my midsection in confusion. The hell...?

"Well, it is getting late, and I have places to be tomorrow," Ego said as he got up. I got up too, though I'm not sure why, and bid him farewell. He looked back with a smile and briefly touched his hat before walking off around the corner of the wall.