Disclaimer: I do not, not not own OW.
Author's (Kate) Notes: With classes ending, little time has been left to write. This is the excuse for the late update and I'm sticking with it.
Chapter 10 - Sois ma invitée
A low, warm glow of orange light dispersed around the establishment from hanging fixtures, challenging the growing brightness outside as the sun rose higher overhead as the day progressed and the atmosphere filled more and more with lively chatter as patrons filed in. Mounted above the back bar sat a series of plasma screen televisions each tuned to different sports-related channels that gave Overwatch bar and grill their edge as a go to destination for fans when a certain team's big game was on. Amongst the crowd dispersed around the bar and surrounding seating area sat the familiar brunette waitress and Russian bartender of the more up-scale, yet still competing restaurant not too far away.
With her gaze cast up and on one of the nearby screens, Zarya's green eyes remained completely locked on the actions of the global sports stars flaunting their abilities on the world stage that kicked off the beginning of the Olympics. As the athletes worked themselves, her focus did not leave for a moment, even when her hands blindly reached for the paper-wrapped wire basket that held her meal of wings. It took little effort for her to make short order of the large bounty that all resulted in a pile of bones and thick sauce in no time; the only memory of the food ever existing resulting in the light staining of her fingertips that she idly sucked on once the mass had dwindled down to nothing.
Across the wooden, plate-littered table sat Lena, her small stature dwarfed by the high leather backing of the booth and the added effort of curling in on herself as the waitress's shoulders slumped in on themselves, her focus refusing to leave anything but its view of the table. In front of her sat a hardly touched portion of fries, the brunette taking her time to eat them one by one. As time passed, an overwhelming majority remain positioned about the plate, completely untouched as they gradually cooled to room temperature.
As the event faded out and the following line of commercials began, the bartender's gaze shifted back onto the table in front of them, her grabbing the condensation-littered glass in front of her and placing the rim to her lips, taking a drink of its contents. The sip was cut short as she caught sight of her coworker across from her, spirits low and head lower. The glass met the table with a clink as she rested her elbow on the surface, using it to slightly lean forward. "Hey," she began, "you doing okay?" Rather than questioning the state of her emotion, bringing attention to the other's depressed state, favor situated itself moreso on Lena's arm as the larger woman gestured to it.
Lena looked up, the other's words roping her back into reality. "Hm? Oh, yeah." She began, a slight, forced smile decorating her lips. "I'm doing fine."
Her arm was gestured to once more, the original prompt clearly not seen. "And how about that?"
It was with this that the waitress slowly wrapped her fingers around the afflicted limb, the thick and bulky bandages poking out through the added fabric of her sling over her jacket. Between her current state and the atmosphere around her, the sounds of the overhead game created a buffer in reality, allowing it to completely slip her mind. "It's doing better. The doctor says I should be good to take off the sling."
"And you're sure you don't remember what they looked like? I wanted to see how many punches they can take before they die."
At this, Lena's smile only grew a bit, her internal alerts finally dying down as the distraction she needed came to her. "Yeah, sorry. It's all a little blurry."
Zarya leaned more onto her propped up arm, her gaze shifting from the brunette's bicep and resting onto the soft features of her face. "At least you got some time to rest it. Boss must really like you."
"Yeah…" Lena began, voice trailing off as her the intrusive memory struck her as the scene unfolded in front of her once again. The harsh, scowling face of the leader as he looked from the package to her. The blinding hot heat that raced through her arm. The sight of her attacker's face as life drained from his eyes. Images and sounds surrounded her memory once again as they had for the past couple of days, leaving the brunette with the haunting images that could have very well been the last things she saw.
Shaking the memories off, she grounded herself once again. "I'm actually going into work today. I got a call this morning. Apparently Hana hasn't shown up in a while and they need me to cover."
This struck a noticeable nerve in the bartender as the corner of her lip twitched into a scowl. "Couldn't they get someone else? You couldn't lift that much before. How are they expecting you to work?"
The brunette gave a slight shrug. "They told me I would just be getting drinks and taking orders. Nothing too bad. Besides, I'm no good just being cooped up at home. Get bored and lonely."
A voice cut through the air as the TV's screen darkened once again, the commercials having come to an end as the events started back up. With a few presses of a button, the tender behind the bar raised the volume as a the footer raised listing flags, names, and most importantly, the next event's title: 'Women's 200m dash' - Emily's event.
After scanning over certain big name contestants having already taken medals, the camera panned wide-angle, taking view of the curve of runners positioned around the track, each one with their foot on the white line. Despite the far view, her tied up mop of ginger hair could clearly be seen. An overwhelming sense of dread befell Lena as the whole bar became quiet to the brunette as every other stimulus was drowned out; the announcer's voice filling the empty void and leaving her with nowhere to turn. Not with it positioned right above Zarya's head.
The signaling shot cut through the air as the racers left their beginning marks, each hitting the ground running as a roar came over the live audience, each cheering on their own racer. The angled line of runners straightened out as they went about the track, a w-shape coming forth as participants poked ahead or fell behind the others. As their feet hit the polyurethane ground with speeds practically unmatched, Lena found herself unable to tear away as her focus solo'd out on Emily. It was only a matter of time until the finish line approached, runners pushing themselves even further to be the first one over it. As strides became longer and quicker, runner after runner made it over, singling the end of the event. With the ground-level camera replaying the mess of the finish, the participants to advance onto the next race were named: Emily included.
The small, sad smile that poked at the corner of Lena's lips almost fell in an instant as the team's coach parted from the sidelines, placing a congratulatory hand on the red-head's back. A noticeable pit grew in the brunette's stomach as she tore her gaze away from the screen.
Without a word, Zarya slid out of the booth and stood, nodding for the other to do the same. "We are going." Despite her surprise, Lena did as she was told, getting up and following the other out the door.
Once the two stepped into the chilled air of the outside world, the larger woman placed her hand on the other elbow, stretching her thick arm across her chest. "I hate sitting for too long." She commented before letting them both drop to her sides and turning to her coworker. "When your arm gets better, you should let me work on it. I'll get it working better than ever."
Lena couldn't help but smile, the other's intentions clear once she navigated her away from it all. "Sure thing."
As Lena made her way around the corner, the restaurant appeared in front of her once again as it had done many times before. The brunette allowed an exhale to escape her slightly parted lips at this sight, the walk between the apartment and Talon having been characteristically shorter than she expected. With there being too little time to bug off and mess around elsewhere, the waitress came to term with just spending the remaining time in the back room as the restaurant was still making preparations to open.
Rounding the side of the building, she pulled open the back door, her insides soon alight with alert as the sound of ringing metal cut through the air, a panicked scream following along after it. It took Lena all of two seconds to yank the door the rest of the way open and enter the kitchen space where one of the culprits was seen as a couple of pots lain strewn across the floor.
As she approached the out of place cookware, the familiarly stern and heavily accented voice halted the momentary silence, the power and intent behind it clear in its execution. "Where did you say you learned how to cook? Look at this, it's a disaster."
A second, much smaller voice spoke up in response. "I'm sorry, I was just trying to cut up the-" It was meek, timid, everything Amélie's wasn't.
"Cut all your fingers, with what I saw." Amélie replied, amusement clearly not there.
As Lena rounded the corner, the sight of smaller woman met her. Standing just an inch shorter than her, and providing enough of a difference between her and the manager to make the latter turn her gaze quite downwards, the new hire stood before her, her hands drawn in upon herself as her anxious view behind thick rimmed glasses remain fixed away from the taller woman before her. "Sorry," she squeaked out, only shrinking in further on herself, the light above catching the metal snowflake of her pin keeping the bun poking out from under her cap firmly in place.
Heels clicked against the floor as Amélie moved past the new hire and towards the open station nearby where everything had been placed. Just as swiftly as she had grabbed the knife, the manager began to cut the pile of vegetables in front of her with quick, long, rocking strides, each chopped piece coming out cleanly and evenly. As she further fed the vegetable to the fluid downward motion of the knife, she continued her speech.
"What did you think you were doing here? You are wasting your time, and more importantly, mine. How are you ever going to survive when the orders are flooding in? Every order will be different with different cooking times and it must all be done at once." With her last word, the last slice had been made and both parts added to the growing pile before the taller woman had slammed the knife back onto the cutting board, a product of her speed and blatant irritation that was further painted by her downturned eyebrows and deep scowl.
With her frustration at the new chef so upfront and captivating, Amélie barely took note of Lena's nearby presence, instead blinded by her own anger. Once again, she pushed Mei aside. "Let me show you. Keep your elbows tucked in and your sleeves out of the food. When you finish cutting one thing, return to this." She said, posturing herself again.
Glancing to her left proved to be more of a headache as the sight of stacked dirtied pots and pans was presented to her. "And what's this?" She asked, that growing frustration clear in her voice. In an instant, the new chef grabbed the sullied cookware and rushed to put them in the nearby sink, eliciting a sigh from the manager. "If it's not cooking or being prepared in, I don't want to see it on any surface, got it?"
Having witnessed the forefront of Amélie's rage left Mei without words as she simply nodded as fear remained painted on her face.
"Wow," Lena cut in, a smile cutting through her captivated look cast towards Amélie.
Amélie rolled the cuffs of her black blouse back down her pale arms as she walked a bit towards Lena. "And what was so, wow?"
"You," she said, words outlined with an overall sense of awe. "You really looked like you know what you're doing."
"Of course I do," she stated simply. "Who do you think made up all of the recipes?"
Lena's eyes only grew at that, staring up at the taller woman in awe. "Then you're like a great chef, or something!"
Amélie looked down at Lena, a little curious to the whole situation. "Would you like to try?"
The waitress was a bit taken aback by this, her lips fumbling a time before forming the right word. "What?"
"After work, would you want to come to my place for dinner?" Amélie replied raising an eyebrow?
To say that Lena was a little lost was an understatement, her rushing leagues a minute trying to wrap her head around the idea of whether this was a request or a command. Whether she had a legitimate choice in this, or if it would become another thing she was forced to do. Through this, the possibilities of what could happen presented themselves to her as her anxiety began to elevate.
Amélie's voice interrupted Lena's thoughts as she spoke in a lowered tone for only Lena to hear. "I promise, nothing will happen that you don't want."
The brunette conjured up a short, understanding nod. "Okay." The word itself projected the unsureness the waitress felt about herself and the situation before her. But for all she knew, if she had refused the invite, she might have been forced to go anyway.
With the front doors locked, lights dimmed, flatware and cutlery put away and chairs placed upside down on top of the tables' surfaces, the restaurant sat in a turned down state that allowed for its official closing and departure of its staff. Padding into the kitchen's side room and tapping one of the touchscreens awake, Lena quickly tapped out her employee log in to clock out. Once everything had refreshed and the screen produced an official message declaring so, the waitress grabbed for her small leather backpack nearby, throwing it over her shoulder as she began heading out.
"Lena?" A voice called out, familiar, yet unusually soft in a way that did not seem natural; one that stopped the brunette in her tracks just as she had begun heading down the small hallway. Turning around, the sight of the manager filled her view as she stood just paces away from her office door. As she inspected the waitress, an out of place look of almost concern could be seen through her usual dark, cold eyes, leaving the woman in front of her in a taken aback state. "Would you still like to come over?"
'Right' As the proposal was presented to her once again, a variety of thoughts shot through Lena's head as she conjured up the debate of whether she should pretend to have forgotten, now that it had become clear that Amélie didn't. She gave a slight nod. "Yeah." Turning to face the manager fully, a smile reeking of innocence decorated her features. "Ready when you are, love."
To hear that nickname once again after its use had been voided from the manager for a noticeable time left the woman taken aback as she just stood there for a moment,trying to make sense of the sudden trust and comfortability projected by the brunette. Shaking it off, she locked up the office before leading the shorter woman out the back door and to her car.
As they joined the steady flow of cars through the criss-crossing streets, conversation between the two remain null as an almost overwhelming silence overtook the car. In the leather cushioning of the passenger's seat, Lena remain perfectly still, simply glancing out the side window and focusing on the passing side streets. 'Maybe if I don't move, she won't see me' was the thought that sparked this as the younger woman tried to pass faulty logic she had taken from an early 90's movie.
With her gaze continuously fixed, however, her eyes landed on a billboard as the car halted at a stoplight. Depicting those familiar five intercepting rings across a white background, its lasting impression remain hard on the young, former olympian turned waitress as her eyes became half-lidded as her view dropped to the dark fabric of her lap. Despite the frigid side gaze produced by the manager, every inch of understanding from the other woman came about by way of noticing and the subsequent speeding off the second the light turned green.
After pulling through the lower driveway and parking the car in its appropriate spot, Lena followed the manager over to the opened elevator doors as they took it up to the top floor in silence. With the doors parting once more, Amélie fished her keys out of her dark brown purse, turning the lock before throwing the door open and allowing them inside. As the lights flickered on with the flip of a switch, Lena found herself looking down the small hallway that opened up into the adjacent living space, leaving her with some mixture of awe as she took in the simple yet perfectly decorated area combined with the lowlights of the outside city scape across from the floor to ceiling glass window. She allowed herself to be drawn in by the view as she walked closer, taking in more of the city than she had seen in all this time living here. With the twinkling lights scattered across the inky black water below, all worry was temporarily forgotten as the city took hold of her.
Shutting the door behind them, the dark haired woman unbuttoned her pale grey reefer coat as she nudged it off her shoulders, throwing it over the appropriate hook in the nearby closet. As she pushed that door closed, she looked out into the living room, catching sight of the brunette. For a moment, she was almost as captivated as Lena was with the city, allowing herself to stare for just a second. She could almost feel a small smile poking at the corner of her lips; nothing strong enough to break through her harsh exterior, but still there nonetheless.
"Before I start, can I get you anything?" She asked, parting through the silence and tearing the other away from the scene before them.
A small smile decorated her lips. "Nah, I'm fine, thanks." Her gaze tracked across the space as Amélie parted into the open kitchen. "Do you need any help?"
"No, I got-" She began, so sure of her words until the other woman's expression began to fall as each syllable left her lips. At this, her eyes widened slightly as the rest of the refusal died on her lips. "I guess you can wash the vegetables if you would like."
With a spring in her step, Lena unlooped her bag from around her shoulders as she let it fall onto the fabric of one of the armchairs, immediately heading over to the kitchen afterward. Despite the slight edit to her plan, a noticeable smile poked Amélie's lips.
From the nearby refrigerator, a mason jar was pulled out and placed onto the granite countertop, its contents a pale yellow in color as the garlic confit was clearly painstakingly homemade. Following closeby was a metal pie tin with a layer of plastic wrap stretched across the top. As Lena peered onto it, and arrangement of colorado lamb chops was seen arranged amongst the ruby colored liquid making up the olive oil and tawny port braising liquid, flecks of smashed garlic, parsley, and rosemary seen throughout.
Separate thin white plastic bags were removed and gathered in a handful as the older woman closed the refrigerator door, taking the bundle over to a nearby cutting board and placing them down, the stems and leaves of assorted greens.
"Cut them into 5 cm lengths after you wash them." She stated simply, passing back over to the nearby cabinets as Amélie continued to get out more ingredients for the remainder of the meal.
"You got it." Was all that was said as the Brit got to work, removing the greens from their bags before she ran them under the nearby sink and placing them back on the board. It was only until she positioned her hand over the whole of the vegetable, stance bent and awkward that caused a moment of pause from the other woman as Lena began to chop up the leaves.
With elbows cemented firmly to her ribs and shoulders hunched, the awkward and uneven slicing of the knife struck a nerve as Amélie watched her from the corner of her eye, attention cast away from the bottle of port that was being added to the saucepan in front of her. "What are you doing?"
Looking down at her work, Lena pouted a little as she tried to figure out the foreign technique. "I'm trying to keep my elbows tucked as I cut. Like you were telling Mei."
The short lived annoyance fizzled away as the taller woman began making her way over. "Here, let me help." As she moved behind the brunette, her long arms laced around Lena's as she gently grabbed for her hands. "They should be placed like this." She commented, playing with the others fingers as they were moved into more proper positions around the knife and greens. "Then you just relax." Her fingers now worked their way up the shorter woman's arms as they adjusted the appendages into a more appropriate stance. "Now, when you cut, you want a rocking, slicing action as you move the blade down." Tracing her fingers down the other's arms once again, she laced her spindly fingers over the others', rocking the knife in an appropriate manner as she used her hands to perform.
As she allowed the other to take control, Lena felt away from it all, becoming almost entranced with what she was made to do as her attention slipped from the gravity and possibilities the situation held and instead rested on how the other's touch felt as she used her to perform.
Letting go of the other, Amélie stepped away as she looked from the brunette to the work station in front of her. "Let's see you try."
Shaking out of her trance, Lena gave a slight nod before mimicking the movement she had been doing just a moment ago, copying it with a slightly rickety shake as she sliced through the vegetables.
A feeling of almost pride bubbled up in Amélie as she watched the other. "Très bon." Was all she said as she turned back to continue on with making the port reduction, and ultimately, the rest of dinner.
On two white dishes, the finished product was plated just as the chops were finished cooking, Amélie putting time and effort to arrange the three chops in a spiral, the protruding bones acting as framework as for the structure. In a streak around the edge was placed the reduction, its deep brownish red color staining the striking white of the flatware below; to the left, a sizable portion of braised greens sat, further accenting the meal.
When she turned around, both plates in hand, she was slightly taken aback as she looked into the dimly lit living space, the sight of the fully set table meeting her just as Lena had set down the last fork, lining out the two spots across from each other. A smile traced across the woman's painted lips as she set the dishes down, the shorter woman pulling out one of the chairs before sitting down in the place she deemed to be her own.
Each plate was set between the aligned cutlery before Amélie took back to the kitchen, grabbing two wine glasses by the thin glass stem before grabbing for the bottle in the other hand. As she made her way back over, each glass was placed in front of the plate, the wine taking residence in the middle of the table after the older woman poured her fill. "Would you like some?" She asked, holding the bottle up ever so slightly.
The waitress's eyes left the green glass of the bottle and landed on the other's gaze, a pang of fear shooting up her spine as a wave of possibilities washed over her mind, each thought conjuring up an idea of what might happen in that foreign setting alone with her. "I'm fine, really." She said shortly, cutting her gaze away from the other.
Setting the bottle down, the manager pulled out her own chair. As she sank into it, she raised the glass to her lips, the welcoming, angular taste of the bitter alcohol taking her mind away from the creeping notion of realization as to exactly what Lena was thinking with her offer.
Looking down to the plate in front of her, the brunette looked over the arrangement of food as means to separate herself from the situation. The sight of the spiraled lamb chops became much more palatable than the sharp and intimidating look Amélie's resting face gave. At this point, the notion of what she would do and what would happen to her became an apparent, glaring fact.
"This looks amazing. Thank you." The cool metal of the utensils met her fingers as she grasped for them, selecting one of the chops with the tines and bringing it forward on her plate, allowing the other two to fall over into their place. Cutting through the light pink flesh, the portion was
impaled onto onto her utensil, the meat then lightly dipped into the port reduction coloring the side of the plater. With an earthy, distinctive taste highlighted by the sweetness of the reduction, the flavor came to her in an instant as the rich juices lined her tastebuds. Each part of the meal made its way through as the garlic and rosemary added another level to the meal, further adding complexity to the marinated chop. As she chewed, her eyes widened in surprise, her gaze shifting up to Amélie. With a swallow, she could hardly contain her amazement. "It's incredible! How did you get so good?"
Amélie felt curious about Lena, she seemed so pure - little confused and so pure. "My mother taught me most of what I know, the rest I learned along the way."
"At school?" She asked, attention shifting away from the rich meal in front of her.
"No, travel."
"What were you doing traveling around?"
"Ballet. I used to travel Europe performing with others." With the last part of her sentence leaving her lips, the older woman caught herself, a little surprised with the ease in which she was able to talk to the other.
"Then what are you doing here?"
"Gérard." As the name left her lips, the smallest amount of pain followed after it, striking the woman in a way she did not think it would effect her any more. "When we married, he had a dream of moving to America."
"You were married?" The question in her voice sounded to be of genuine interest as the younger woman continued to egg her on. "What happened?"
A pause fell across the table as Amélie was left with her thoughts on a topic long left alone. Her eyes rested downwards as her gaze traced across the dark grain of the table. After a sigh, she reset. "It's a long story."
The concern that bubbled up inside of Lena turned genuine as she watched the woman in front of her exhibit the most human emotion she had seen. "I'm all ears if you ever need to talk about it."
Amélie grabbed for the bottle in the middle of the table, pouring herself another glass of wine. After that, she needed it.
A small, comforting smile poked at the corner of Lena's lips as she grabbed for her own glass, holding the stem between her thumb and forefinger as she brought it to the middle. "Mind if I join you?"
The other just gave a slight nod, reaching over and allowing the ruby colored liquid to flow into the thin curve of the glass. "You really are something," she commented; a notion that evicted a small giggle from the other party.
As the meal came to an end, all used dishes were ushered back to the kitchen, leaving the dining table back to its natural, empty state. "I'll clean up." Lena said happily, popping up slightly in her stance.
All she was met with was a simple shake of the head. "You go rest. I'll take care of it."
This evoked a small frown from the other party. "That's not fair if you have to cook and clean."
"Your arm is still healing, that's where it becomes fair."
The sharp pain of truth hit her right where it hurt as she looked down at the injured arm as she set the plate down into the bowl of the sink. "Right…"
The pain of truth hit her, she looked over at her arm as she set down her plate at the sink. "Right.." She had a slight moment, remembering the gunfight. She stood there, looking down at the plate.
As Amélie came closer to the other woman, the toll the realization had on her became obvious once she noticed the slight quaking of the other's form. A hand was placed on the brunette's shoulder, palm resting lightly as her her fingertips fell onto her back. "Lena?"
At the contact, the younger woman's eyes widened, the feeling so sudden and unwanted on her that she jumped back.
This initial worry turned to downright concern. "Let's sit you down." Amélie said, her hand not leaving the shoulder as she walked the other over to the couch, gently sitting her down onto the plush material.
Now away from it all, Lena was able to finally snap out of it, the reality of the situation hitting her as she made contact with the furniture. She looked up at the other with a haziness to her. "I'm fine. I promise."
"Rest." Amélie began, removing her hands from the other woman. "Can I get you anything?"
Lena simply shook her head 'no' as she sank further into the cushions.
With reluctance, Amélie parted from the living space, making her way back over to the kitchen as she began the chore of doing the dishes. As she ran them through the suds and water, removing all remaining bits of food, there was a certain speed to her work that fell in line with the slight concern that flowed through her. With every other passing moment, a quick glance was shot over her shoulder as an eye was kept on the guest.
Left alone with nothing but her thoughts, Lena felt for her phone poking awkwardly in her pocket, pulling it out and turning it on as she quickly became occupied with texting.
In only a matter of minutes, the sound of water was turned off, the light clicking of heels approaching soon heard throughout the space. "How are you feeling?" Amélie asked, her voice soft, quiet, everything it normally wasn't.
Her phone was quickly put down and positioned to the side of her lap, the dark screen face down into the fabric of the sofa. "I'm alright, you?" Lena's voice was a little shaky, her words acting as a mirror into the true underlying emotion of general worry regarding where this night may end.
The notion was shrugged off without a single thought put into it. "Who were you texting?" A question accented with the other woman planting herself into the adjacent sofa.
"Oh, um…" It took the brunette a moment of shifting the idea back and forth before deciding to comply. "Emily."
"Is she that girl you were talking to at work?"
"Yeah." Her voice was a mixture of confusion and confession between deciding whether to focus on the fact that Amélie remembered, or continue with the conversation at hand.
"And who is she to you?"
The initial words she wanted to reply with formed and died on her lips as her response of 'girlfriend' was short lived just as her chance for it to have been a true answer had come and gone. "She was on my track team since high school."
"Is that it?" That other woman asked, her legs crossed as she looked across to the other in genuine interest.
Lena's gaze fell down to her lap. "Kind of…"
"What happened?"
A small smile formed on her lips as she looked back up at Amélie, their gazes connecting. "It's a long story, love."
This was met with a simple rolling of the other's eyes as the manager found little amusement in the other's attempt at irony.
"What, don't like the taste of your own medicine?"
"Never have."
Lena was taken aback for a moment, lines of confusion forming on her face. "Was that a joke?" She asked, her voice reflecting the emotion before being cut by a laugh that bubbled up in her throat. "What happened to all your 'Do I look like I joke' stuff?"
Just as quickly as it had come, the chuckle left her as she thought back to the first time the manager had told her that; just shortly after the waitress had asked for the extra hours. Her heart grew heavy once again as the emotion of the night continued to become more and more mixed between tolerable and unsavory.
Before she had realized it, Amélie closed the part between them as she sat next to her, taking position with only a few inches between them. Slowly, her fingers found their way to Lena's leg, her touch resting on it as the tips threatened to touch her inner thigh.
Author's (Alec) Notes: CLIFF HANGER, sorry… We cooked this meal twice and still do not know how to describe it. This became a hard chapter to write. It was a recipe I made back in culinary school, and where I can describe in detail how to make it, the taste was more important and the hardest to do. Anyway. Thank you to everyone who joined me for Overwatch. Kate and I had a lot of fun and would love to play with more of you. We play on PC almost every night, just pm us with your Battle net.
Kate and I arguing like; Kate: French fries. Alec: Chip. Kate: FRENCH fries. Alec: CH-ips
Kate's Disclaimer: We don't own Ratatouille either. Sorry Pixar.
