Who: Monty and OPEN When: October 18th, 2051 - 5:00 Where: Mimi's Restaurant Rating: PG-13 for the inevitable language Summary: Even on break Monty likes to keep a close eye on his staff. Warnings: SFW - Kinda sorta
Few people took breaks quite like Monty. Anyone else would think that a break would mean taking a rest from work, maybe even going out for lunch but that wasn't Monty's style. These days break time consisted of him sequestering a corner table in Mimi’s, legs propped up on a nearby chair and eyes staring almost unblinkingly in the direction of the kitchen. He had only been working in the restaurant for a handful of weeks but frankly, he couldn’t trust the place to run without him. Before he go there the food was, at least to his standards, fucking disgusting and not worthy to be served to anyone and the staff didn’t seem to give two shits about that--something that just wasn’t going to fly with him as Head Chef.
It took him less than a week to take over complete control of the kitchen, changing the menu to suit his more Brazilian tastes and shuffling staff around as he pleased. It took another week for the actual owner of the place to give up all pretense of still being in control and since then, Monty treated the place like it was his own and for the most part, the staff seemed to fall in line. After all, with him in control standards were up and business was better so for the staff members who could bear with the occasional abusive rant of a utensil here or there flying at their head, it wasn’t so bad of a deal. For Monty, the control was everything that he needed.
Here in China everything was...different. Different in every conceivable way and for the first time since he was a teenager, Monty felt unsure and out of place. He hated that. Fucking hated it. So being in the kitchen again and having that sure-footed feeling that came with being somewhere he knew he belonged was just what he needed. Which was why he spent almost his every moment in the restaurant--cooking and terrorizing as he liked. Just half an hour ago he had sent one of the waitresses to the bathroom in tears when he had called her out on hitting on every guy who walked through the door; being told she should be ‘serving food and not whoring herself’ apparently hurt her feelings. But her reaction was still better than that guy he’d kicked out on his ass for saying his salmon tasted ‘too fishy’. Stupid asshole.
Monty must have been staring just a bit too hard at the food coming out of the kitchen because he almost missed the spiky haired waiter (whose name he couldn’t be bothered to remember) to his left carelessly dropping a bowl of seafood stew on the table in front of a customer, almost scalding the person as hot liquid sloshed out. His was on his feet in seconds, lips pulled back into a snarl and it took him a step before he was towering over the guy.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He hissed out, just barely resisting the urge to slap the back of the guy’s overly styled head. “Are you so stupid you don’t know how to serve people? All that hair product has seeped into your brain and killed all your brain cells, yes? Go home. Go home now while I find a monkey to do your fucking job better.” The guy looked like it was taking everything in him not to protest but he wasn’t crazy. Face flaming red and teeth gritted, he slammed his tray on the table, whirled on his heel and stumped out of the restaurant.
Monty’s glaring eyes followed the guy until he was gone. “Idiot.”