On very rare occasions, a job that had been agreed to and signed for didn't always work out in your favour. Even though a customer would be professional and respectful through the entire scaffolding of contracts and other legalities, when the time came for you to honour your appointments, they would turn into a living nightmare and a handful of times you had to remove yourself out of harm's way. This happened to be the case with your most recent booking, and as you stumbled home with a light limp after literally kicking your way out to freedom, you started to wonder whether or not it was time to finally call it quits from this business.

Majority of your customers were Gourmet Hunters that fell into three categories; cocky greenhorns that were intent on bragging about their lifestyle with trophy eye-candy, a genuinely nice hunter that was just a little out of touch with their social skills, or hunters that had long retired years ago. It became a lot more obvious when you were strapped to the arm of an aging hunter that others knew exactly what you were. You were used to the side-eyes and the upturned noses, but you were making a living out of it, and you weren't hurting anyone physically. Mostly just yourself. Most of them were very nice people that just wanted to share some company; why was it a bad thing to indulge them for a little bit?

You had thought that last night's booking was the genuine type, but it turned out to be quite the opposite. He fell into category one, and not only did he physically lead you around last night's dinner function with unnecessary force, he felt entitled to "just a little more" from you and attempted to drag you to a sleazy hotel room. After all, he was paying you to be "his piece." It took all of your strength to fight your way to freedom and escape, and even though you were safely locked behind the confines of your home, you couldn't quite shake that feeling of guilt and grime from you, no matter how long your shower was.

Curling up into a ball on your bed, you ignored the soft pinging sounds of incoming emails on your devices and pulled the blanket up to your chin tightly to stop yourself from being exposed to the world. A steady stream of pent up tears leaked down your cheeks. Even though you may put on a brace face when confronted by danger, it didn't stop the feeling of vulnerability from eating away at your psyche.

'Maybe it's time to give it all up.' A soft though spoke to you.

But what else could you do? The only reason why you got into this business in the first place was because you had unsuccessfully landed a job in any other industry and was forced to take matters into your own hands. You weren't strong enough to be a hunter and nor where you skilled enough to be a chef; a dream that had long since died out since your study days. You once dreamed of owning your own restaurant and being showered in gratitude from happy eaters, but you struggled to stand out from the other students in your classes that always seemed to outshine you in every aspect. You weren't bad at cooking, but you weren't nearly good enough to be able to stand on your own competitively, especially in this era. To you, everyone else just seemed to better than you when it came to cooking. You just couldn't quite get your flavours to mix properly for that wow factor.

You had tried even getting into retail, but ended up getting irritated at the amount of entitled customers and the inane questions that were easily answered if they had just taken the initiative and looked for it. The unfortunate thing is, your customer service was good, great in fact, that you seemed to attract almost everyone your way. So, there you were; an approachable, kind and empathetic person that was good at interacting, but just sick of the monotony. Not your best move, but you quit your steady job on an impulse before you reached your limit and had a break down.

So here you are, managing some twisted blend of "customer service" and using your outward aesthetics to sustain a lifestyle, but not necessarily a healthy one. Despite your thoughts about how odd or shy your customers might be, you weren't so different yourself. Why did you enjoy this? In a weird way, you got some sort of odd pleasure from being able to provide company to someone, even if it was only for a limited time and it wasn't completely genuine. Still, there had to be some underlying sense of honest empathy towards them, otherwise you wouldn't keep putting yourself through this and feeling that slight inkling of care when you parted way when all was said and done.

Right?

Drifting off to sleep, you didn't hear your mail pushed through the slot and another notice for your post box.

'It's only been a day?' you said softly, peeling your second envelope open and your curiosity buzzed again once more. Another, almost identical folded piece of paper slipped out and you were met again with those emerald strokes.

Dear Sugar,

I must deeply apologise. Your request of communications inflicts a lot of unease for me. I'd like to stay off the grid as much as possible, so I refrain from putting any sort of personal/identifiable information into it. I feel much more comfortable corresponding this way. Please do not worry about responding in time; I'll always make sure you aren't waiting long. Besides, what I need you for isn't for a little over a month.

On the topic of that. Well, I need someone to come with me to a banquet. Seems pretty simple, right? Especially in this day and age. I'm told that the food that's being served consist of special preparation ingredients and that only a very small number of patrons are being given this opportunity.

The catch is that those invited are requested to bring a partner of the opposite sex; to "truly appreciate the evening's offerings." I haven't been given any more information than that at this time, and well, it pains me to admit that I am at a loss regarding this particular parameter.

…I've spent a life trying to keep people at a distance to me and it's moments like these that I see myself at such a disadvantage. I wouldn't normally see this as the case, but recently I've begun to feel like perhaps I've made a mistake.

…Regardless, I hope this might interest you further. At the very least, come and enjoy some food with some good company?

C

Oh, and I almost forgot. If you ever find yourself travelling to Gourmet Fortune, you should wear a green scarf.

'Gourmet Fortune, huh?' you said quietly, twirling the end of your hair around your finger. Something about this person was giving you that strange feeling of comfort that you shouldn't logically be feeling by any means. Glancing at a nearby clock, it read it was about three AM. You should have gone to bed hours ago, but your attempted assault played havoc with your senses. You were still on the fence about throwing in the towel for everything, but something deep in your heart was urging you to go through with this. You couldn't explain it, but maybe this could be your swansong?

Gourmet Fortune wasn't that far away from where you currently lived. Maybe a change of scenery would be worth it to help clear your head. The green scarf comment threw you for a loop though.

'I guess he must live there or travel to it frequently.' you thought, tapping your foot rapidly on the floor with indecision. Did you cut your losses then and there and decline this invitation? You were still feeling apprehensive of continuing and the idea of just letting it all go seemed very inviting. Except, eating food didn't seem like a bad place to be?

Your stomach growled with want and you pulled your hands to it. You realised that you hadn't had anything to eat for hours; you weren't exactly in a position before to whet your appetite when you were being dragged around to every corner of every room like a show piece. The idea of snacking on gourmet food away from the general public was a very tempting offer. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad?

You fossicked around for your professional stationery and pulled out a fresh piece and an envelope, before drawing back out the deep purple pen you used last time. Consistency always felt professional in your opinion, even down the kind of pen you used.

Dear C,

So, you want to pay me to eat some food with you? Sounds a little too good to be true.

But I've been thinking about it all and, well…

You paused for a moment, feeling your heart start to beat faster in your chest.

It sounds like a dream. I think I might need this.

See you soon.

Sugar