Now, there were very few things in the world that caused Kristoph Gavin great deals of anxiety. Certainly to look at him you would think that there was nothing that could harm that cucumber cool as exterior.
Yet there were a few select things that could turn him into the sort of man that would want to bury a knife into that anxiety along with whatever had caused it.
This was one of those times.
Kristoph Gavin was no fan of interruptions. Especially not when there were sandwiches to be made.
His hand stilled at the sound of the pleasing melody that intoned through the hallways of his house.
A composition of such lyrical delight should not have sent such a chill down his spine yet Kristoph found his hands began to shake and as such he gripped the handle of the knife ever tighter.
In the tense silence after the melody subsided Kristoph paused and looked up, an unusual hysteria overtaking him.
Who could it be, was not the question he first asked himself. No, that wasn't his main concern. The rules of propriety dictated he must answer his door… but then what of his culinary feats thus far?
Would his sandwich ever be the same, being left out in the open for such time as pleasant doorway chitchat?
What if he was compelled to invite someone into his house?
Aghast at such a thought, years of good breeding aloud him to deduce instantly his next course of action. Calmly, the grip on his knife changed to that most irregular for slicing. He'd not be able to use its for his sandwich afterwards, but he had other knives and being free from distraction was all he really wanted.
Aghast at such a thought, years of good breeding aloud him to deduce instantly his next course of action. Calmly, the grip on his knife changed to that most irregular for slicing. He'd not be able to use its for his sandwich afterwards, but he had other knives and being free from distraction was all he really wanted.
Kristoph Gavin wasn't a violent man; some people just had bad timing.
Swiftly he moved to the doorway of the kitchen.
The bell rang again, this time accompanied with the sound of banging. The most obnoxious banging he could have ever heard, and on his own front door!
Just about to get his prowl on, like so many ninja, Kristoph stopped and looked at the small security box on the wall beside him and frowned, the green letters telling him it was setting 4: Caution. He had wondered what was taking so long.
A few buttons later and the situation was rectified.
With a small, complacent, smile on his face, Kristoph Gavin returned to his kitchen, the sound of melee and screaming following him, as guns of indiscriminate legality and laser pinpointing politely declined his guests their visit.
Kristoph knew there had been a good reason in getting the level 9: Ballista setting installed.
If anyone could say he was over the top, you must understand that for a man as dedicated to sandwich making as Kristoph Gavin, someone ringing his doorbell was a big deal.
Turning back to his sandwich he realised that there was still a long way to go before it was completed. He still had the cheese to select, and he was already halfway through the fourth instalment with interruptions!
This would not do.
Letting his knife down he took stock of his options. Glancing at the grill he realised he had not the luxury of patience now, to choose an appropriate cheese for any sort of merit to his country.
He took delight in cursing a little, enjoying the pressure and welcoming the challenge.
If there was one thing his country needed, it was the ability to stay strong throughout!
Kristoph Gavin was a man always in control, he prided himself on it, it was how he worked best, and he knew of really only one cheese that could help him regain his composure.
Not cheddar, far too common. Not a soft cheese either; he needed nothing flavoured with garlic or herbs! That sort of frippery could be held for another day! Even thought that Gruyere he'd found at the market last Tuesday looked just to die for, there was really only one of his sixteen cheeses he could use.
The tin kept it fresh; the water inside kept it moist and malleable. Kristoph reverently pulled the mozzarella from its case and began to slice it delicately.
Acutely aware of how much of an effect this particular cheese could have on his entire world Kristoph was careful to be careful. Slices no more than half a centre meter thick and never cut quicker than 1 every three seconds.
Not only would it add a distinctly moderate tone to the sandwich, it would make a perfectly soothing balm to his anxieties. It would also help bind together the community by cooling anger and cementing community spirit. That was what he wanted, people who sympathised with others. People who didn't interrupt.
Mozzarella could do all that – it would do all that easily.
He looked at the other cheeses once he'd finished cutting and felt a brief pang for the all the ones he could have chosen had circumstances been different. Brie was always such a classic favourite and some of the German smoked cheeses were divine.
Alas circumstance weren't always in Kristoph Gavin's favour.
With a sigh that was getting closer and closer to the contentment of earlier he placed the slices on his sandwich, stood back and took a long breath followed by a sip of his wine.
He'd done it, he'd survived.
And now, it was almost time; he looked towards the rest of the ingredients. The big guns, he thought with a wry smile. All he had to do now was choose the meat.
End Book 4
Crisis averted with extreme violence.
Learn well children.