The sixty dollars that Vix had gotten from Geller for the blade was put into good use. Priority 1: topping off the gas tank in the van. A full tank seemed like a luxury but it was something that was a long term investment when you lived your life from day to day. Priority 2: replenishing dry food supplies. Yeah, there was nothing like fresh food but fresh food was pricey and going to Aldi and stocking up on generic foods, cans of tuna, crackers and all those things that didn’t need to be cooked was better to have. Priority 3: Laundromat, what clothes she had needed a fresh cleaning, making sure that every last bit of fabric owned was refreshed and washed. That trio of twenties didn’t go all that far but it was a lot further then not having it would be.
The days that passed between their meeting and Friday were spent with her doing her normal routine: scrounging up bits of metal from construction sites, sorting them and then bringing them to her van to start grinding into blades. It kept her busy, kept her from thinking, worrying, about Friday. Because it was something that worried her. Since leaving the rehab center she’d really only done day work, not setting down any sort of commitment or roots but this, working for Geller, it was like a seed being planted, now it might be sterile and just blow away or, well, it might grow into something much much more.
Her life before the rehab center was a blank slate, nothing remained of the years before that fateful accident, but now and again there were not so much shadows as feelings, impulses of things that felt familiar or urges to do things that had no reason behind them that seemed to originate from that void of her past. That’s what this was like, the idea of going to the restaurant, of working for Geller, it was an impulse from that void, a itch to be a part of… something.
———— Friday ————
The last bit of the remaining funds that she’d gotten from Geller was used at a truck stop to take a shower. A whore’s bath wasn’t good enough for a restaurant kitchen after all. She’d pulled out the pale blue jeans that had the least amount of holes and worn spots along with the cream henley style shirt that pretty much fit her petite frame. Hell she even brushed her hair, twisting it into a long braid, and rubbing in a bit of moisturizer to the freshly shaved side of her scalp, especially along the knobby scars. As prepared as she could get she checked the time before driving over to the restaurant, finding a spot to park before heading around the back of the building as directed. She was a little bit early so she kicked about in the alley, which instead of easing the nervous twitching in her stomach it just made worse so finally she strode up to the door, deep breath taken to pound the side of her fist against it in a firm knock.
She jumped back as it was pushed open, barely a glimpse of who it was before they whirled, throwing over their shoulder ”Vix right? Boss is on the line.” The figure disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived, forcing her to rush in before the door closed behind him. Restaurant kitchens were organized chaos, something that appealed to her as she moved inside. Slight and with a fox’s nimble agility she wended her way through the kitchen, offering quick flashes of smiles and nods to the personnel as she passed them.
Her fingers twitched now and then as she watched the cooks with their tools, nose wrinkling at the mingling of scents. Not in a bad way, just in the overwhelming mix of sweet and sour, savory and bitter. So used to asphalt and diesel, the stench of garbage or sharp tang of metal working this odors of a gourmet kitchen were almost brutal in their heavenly contrast. The quick steps of a waitress practically barreling towards her had Vix ducking, twisting and as she found herself out of tempo with the intricate dance of movements of the employees she literally dropped and rolled under one of the steel workspaces to come up on the other side.
And there went the pristine cleanliness of her clothes. Well just shit. But she came up near Ito, the only familiar face she’d run into and her eyes widened at the seemingly stoic man practically shattered her eardrums with that bellow. She cringed a bit, hands flattening over her ears to give Ito an instinctive growl, expression turning sheepish when Geller’s face appeared. Another little growl at Ito, but this one accompanied by a wink to make it playful before she scanned the path to where Geller was working.
It took a moment to find the pattern of movement and then she was on the move, darting through everyone without mishap. Well, mostly, there was a couple of exclamations and various curses as she did her duck and weave, but no crashes, bangs or debris so it was a considered success. A quick glance around the area directly around where Geller worked and a side corner was claimed for her to sit on, effortlessly bouncing into place, tugging her legs up to keep as small and out of the way as possible. It looked like it was the work desk where orders were placed, a phone on the wall behind her so hopefully it would be a good place to observe for the moment.
A wave was given, her eyes darting from one person to the next with curious fascination at this intricate dance as they wrapped up the lunch rush. The bantering between the employees had her smiling. ”Need better steels.” She was watching the movements, the way that knives were being used, the tools they all used, eyes narrowing a bit at the sharpening steels that were being used to touch up the edges of the blades. Chefs were particular of their knives but sometimes didn’t follow through to realize that the tools they used to keep them pristine needed to be of just as good quality. Not all sharpening methods were the same after all and a sharpening steel didn’t work nearly as well as ceramic or diamond hone. It might not have been the best of greetings but speech wasn’t her strength so she had a tendency to get to the point, especially since she had so few words to use.
As she watched him work the initial tension, the twisting nervousness in her stomach had eased under her curiosity but even as that was slaked she found herself relaxing further. There was a warmth in here, not just because of the grills and ovens, a warmth in the people here. They fought and cursed at each other but worked like and intricate machine, individual pieces that when put together were a much greater sum. Watching them work she looked for any gaps, anything that was a causing a stumbling in the pattern. Without really thinking about it she twisted to look on the counter/desk she was sitting on, finding a blank piece of paper and a pencil to start sketching a work flow, a little frown of concentration on her face.