Who: Aidan & Tessa
Where: Solstice
When: Sunday evening; at close
Open: Perhaps.




It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. That's the way things were on weekends at Solstice. It constantly fucking busy. Friday night, you had the crowd before the movies. Then you had the crowd that went to pre-game before they went to the clubs. Then you had the group that came in after the movie, filled with popcorn and soda, but always seemed to make room for drinks and dessert; not that Tessa could blame them: she was after all, responsible for a delicious little concoction know as the peanut butter cup cheesecake. But enough about her. Saturday was...well, it was a typical Saturday. But if it was possible (and oh believe her, it was), Sundays were the absolute worst. It was the all-you-can-eat-brunch that brought in people by tidal waves. The holy rollers starving after two hours of praying to a higher power, the drunks who were hungover, and - the real professionals - the drunks who hadn't even gone to bed yet; were still high on dance floor energry and vodka and Red Bulls. Even though it was "tear out your damn hair" stressful, Tessa enjoyed each and every second of it. This is what she was born to do. Make a shitload of pancakes on the fly, order people around (when Aidan wasn't around), and hell, depending on his mood, playfully order his demanding ass around.

But today, fuck, was there something in his coffee? Did someone piss in it? Did he not only wake up on the very wrong side of the bed, but have someone throw him face first on the wooden floor beneath it? She'd seen Aidan in some wretched moods, know a man like him long enough, and you can figure them out. Once the vein in his forehead began pulsing, it was wise to stay as far away as possible. She was used to his snarky remarks, well accustomed to feeling him out, knowing when a dark thundercloud of irritation had steam rolled him flat. Tessa assumed it had to do something with shit at home.Tonight was a different story. He wasn't just making snide remarks, he was making personal attacks, in not so subtle ways. Underneath his breath, even in front of the kitchen staff. It scratched at her tolerance level worse, maybe because up until now they'd been getting along well. Her breaking point was already wobbly as she sent the last dish out for the evening, but then it got sent back, and unfortunately, in front of Aidan's watchful gaze. Was it just her, or was he lingering a bit too much in the kitchen tonight? Too close for her comfort, definitely. Instead of ignoring her and seeing to it himself, he took the plate and threw it against the wall. The plate shattered, spitting shards of porcelain and bits of food everywhere, causing the entire kitchen to pause, as a hush fell over it.

"Goddammit, Tessa! Can't you do ANYTHING right? You think just because I fucked you, you can walk around here like you own the fucking place. Make this again, and take it out IN PERSON to the guest, or you're done."

Tessa blinked, too shocked to even come up with an equally disrespectful reply back; not that it mattered, because Aidan stormed out the second his little tantrum was over. The silence caused her cheeks to flush in embarrassment, and she waved her hands, snapping. "What're you looking at? Everyone get back to work. We're closing soon." She refused to make eye contact, didn't want to deal with the gleeful and sympathetic stares, merely pulled her hair back and made the dish, going out to the customers to give a disingenuous and toothy apology. Close to an hour later, most of the kitchen staff had left, and Tessa was in the midst of making a late dinner to take home. The isolation was calming, and though she was still angry over Aidan's verbal attack, her attention was focused on cooking the food and getting the fuck outta here. She was in the midst of tossing the italian herb encrusted chicken in a pan when the doors pushed open and Aidan entered. The rational part of her mind told her to ignore him...but since when did she listen to logic? She didn't look up, just kept cooking.

"You're a fucking prick."