Terron Wilks's Story

Terron Wilks

Beep Beep Beeeeeeep Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! The steadily building volume of the alarm caused an explicative to be uttered as the owner of the infernal machine groped around in the general direction of it. After a moment his hand managed to locate the small, blaring machine, but after more than a few attempts at slapping it off it continued to emit its irritating call. Finally, the man chose to go for the direct method, and just swiped it off the bedside table with the back of his hand. A satisfying crunch later and the beeping finally stopped, leaving the empty townhouse eerily silent. The only noise that could be heard in the resulting quiet was the steady breathing of the bed's occupant.

Terron Wilks sighed heavily as he pushed himself onto his elbows in the bed, blinking sleep out of his eyes as he looked at the side table to check the time- having forgotten he'd just knocked the clock onto the floor along with the alarm. Once this circumstance registered in his mind he groaned and shuffled forward a little on his elbows to reach out for the cellphone resting on the opposite end of the nightstand. When he'd managed to reach it he used the tip of his finger to click the button and immediately slumped back into the pillow with a groan. Unfortunately he had once again slept through the first set of alarms it was his daily ritual to set, and now it was nearly thirty minutes past time for him to have gotten up. This meant that he'd have to sacrifice the time he usually spent soaking in his tub and take a much less pleasing shower instead.

Ignoring the bed's other occupant, the young man slipped out from under the bed's thick down comforter and stepped out onto the carpeted floor. A shiver coursed up his spine as the chill air touched his skin, and he wasted no time in padding across the carpet in his bare feet toward the master bathroom. Not bothering to shut the door behind him, he quickly prepared himself a hot shower and began the rest of his morning rituals. A scant twenty minutes later he was wrapping a towel around his waist and plugging in a hairdryer to blow out his blonde curls. Once he was satisfied with his hair, the young man wound his way from the bathroom into the small walk-in closet. Now came the easiest part of his getting ready routine- the selection of his clothing for the day; all he had to do was pull the ivory chef's uniform from it's hanger along with the pressed pair of black slacks that constituted his uniform. Before throwing them on he fished a black muscle shirt and a pair of briefs from the top drawer of his dresser, putting them on under the perfectly pressed kitchen-wear. Last he fastened on a black banded watch, which he would keep on even while working, and slid his plain silver handgun into the back of his trousers- it never hurt to be prepared when working for Big Daddy in any capacity.



Finally ready to go and walking across the bedroom with his slip-resistant shoes in hand, he suddenly remembered that today was the day Maria set up early to run a special breakfast service. "Damn, it's been too long..." Terron sighed to himself. The last two weeks had been his first vacation in almost two years; one that had been forced upon him by the big boss when his line chefs complained one too many times about how uptight he'd been getting lately. If he were honest with himself, he would have to say that he had most decidedly needed the break, no matter how nervous he was to be out of his kitchen for so long.

Terron's propensity to be a bit obsessive over cleanliness was obvious where ever one looked in his house, and even on his way out of the door he stopped to rearrange a series of decorative objects located by the front door. Finally satisfied in their sequence, he took his keys from the hook by the door and hurried out into the crisp morning.

On his way driving to Buca the phone he'd placed in his pocket began to buzz repeatedly, and without taking his eyes from the road he fished it out of the large pocket of his jacket and slide his thumb across the screen to answer it. "Hello, Terron Wilks speaking! Ah, Leo! Aww yea, I miss you too- but I've been so busy lately. Tomorrow night? Can't! I'm back at work- I know, I know, super sad. We'll have to catch dinner another time. Love you, too." Upon switching off the phone he raised an eyebrow at the blank screen before addressing the electronic device, "Who in the heck is Leo, huh?" It wasn't the first time and probably wouldn't be the last he'd received a call from someone he couldn't remember, so he shrugged it off quickly as he shoved the phone back into his pocket. Within minutes he was pulling into the employee parking area, noting how empty it was at this still at this time of day.

Terron hurried across the empty parking lot to escape the cold, straight into his favorite place in the whole world. What he stepped into he couldn't quite comprehend for a moment- and it wasn't because of the slow rush that meant their early regulars were arriving. Someone had done over the kitchen while he'd been gone on his vacation. An angry scowl claimed his face as he paced quickly across the new floors, around the other chefs who knew better than to intercept him, and out into the dining area. The first person he saw was luckily the best person to ask about what had happend to his kitchen, "Maria Mae Occheto! What have you heathens done?! Can I not leave you people alone with my kitchen for all of two weeks?" The head chef wound his way toward the bar offering patrons a genial smile every once in a while, and even pausing a moment to gaze at Jackson who he hadn't seen in some time, before he finally made his way to the tiny Italian woman. Staring down at her he raised an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for her answer.

Maria Occheto

"What have you heathens done?" The screech belonged to none other than Terron. Maria needed not so much as turn to look at him to identify his voice. She maintained her focus on Argento's whiskey-pouring as she addressed the distressed chef, "I know, I know baby. I'm a heathen. A bad girl. You can wag your finger at me in disapproval later but right now I have customers." Her tone tilted up at the last few words, as if she were singing to the chef.

Argento's sagging, aged eyes glanced from his glass which was full to the brim and the perturbed chef. With a close-mouthed chuckle and nod, he raised his glass to himself and shot it down the hatch. Maria accepted one of his tips gratefully, then turned slightly to thrust her hip out and lean it onto the polished counter. "You're the one who wanted to disappear on me. I had to spite you somehow. That will show you not to leave me alone again." A feline smirk banged out on her face, her verdant eyes amused and playful. She truthfully missed the company of Terron and his toying and adorable smile that made her feel obligated to pinch his cheeks like some frisky old grandma.

In anger at her deterred focus, a few men at the bar jeered and called for her. "Duty calls," Maria bent at the waist a little, smirking at her coworker then returning to the men to get their drinks before they threw more of a fit. "Alright, don't get your pink panties in a twist," Maria would joke to some of the frequenters as she pursed her red painted lips and scolded them for being impatient. Multitasking was unusually easy as she served up hard liquor and scanned the room for Lance. She had to wonder what he wanted earlier and quite frankly it began to bother her.

Daniel Takahashi

After he'd finished with his shower, the slender young man parked himself in front of a place he rarely stood for long. Cleaning the mist off the mirror in his bathroom he took a long moment to examine the wounds that peppered his body; his face didn't look nearly as bad as it had yesterday thanks to the anti-inflammatory part of the pain medication he'd taken- his lip was now just slightly larger than normal and the bruising around his eye was turning a lovely purple color- and luckily the rib Maria had popped back into place didn't seem to be broken- it too was splotched in various shades of violet and crimson. It was still obvious he'd been roughed up recently, but he no longer looked like the walking dead- well, no more so than usual. Daniel was still in more than a little bit of pain- especially when he took deep breaths- but he could live with it.

When he'd taken as much of his own face as he could stomach, Daniel retreated back to his bedroom to change into something a bit more work appropriate than the jeans he'd just tossed into the dirty clothes basket. In his current state it was out of the question to put on any form of button-down, let alone a tie, so the translator settled for a dark sweater with a plain white undershirt that wouldn't irritate the abrasions littering his shoulders and side. After that he struggled on a pair of pale grey, wrinkle-resistant slacks to complete his work attire.




Even if Martin had finished the work he was supposed to turn in today, there was always plenty more where that came from lying in piles around his office- so he couldn't afford to take the day off. Besides, the only place he would go was the hospital, and he could imagine the scolding he'd get if he showed up to face his mother looking as he did. The thought of his okaa-san made him wince a little as he was reminded that he'd been so busy the last couple of days he hadn't called her as he should have. So on his way out of the door he grabbed the bus pass he rarely used- he had left his car in the employee parking at Buca-and his cellphone, dialing his mother as he locked the door from the outside.

Chatting away in Japanese with the older woman, he hobbled his way down the stairs of his apartment building and out to the bus stop at the end of his block; half of his attention was on the conversation and the other half was scanning the surrounding area surreptitiously. The majority of the conversation that continued even as he was standing in the back of the over-full public transportation was him giving the occasional "はい" or "ええ,ほんとに?" in response to the long stream of words his mother constantly spewed at her son. The twenty-five minute ride to the busstop nearest the bistro was spent entirely in this fashion to his distress; the entire time every other person on the bus had been staring at the strange Asian kid covered in bruises nattering away in some random language no one understood.

Daniel limped into the front door still on the phone. For a moment he stood out of the way of the entrance listening to his mother prattle on about how none of the nurses understood her need for good and proper tea before he finally gathered up the courage to interject, "お母さん...今、アルバイトでいます...はいはい,じゃあ...あとでね? はい, ぼくも. Ok... Ok, Bye." The second he clicked off the phone he sighed in relief, hissing as his side protested the heavy breath. Sliding the phone into the backpocket of his pants he began his circuitous route toward the back stairs and his office- trying his best to blend in to the scenery so none of the customers would notice his beaten face.


Terron Wilks

Maria's nonchalant response to his distress made him throw up his hands in over-dramatic dispair, "It's not like I wanted to leave my kitchen to you thugs! Freaking line-chefs and their complaining... is it so wrong to throw a cleaver at a guy a couple times?" The last bits were added in a mumbled undertone so that the customers wouldn't hear him; it wouldn't do for their lovely patrons to think the chef was insane, and he certainly didn't want any stain on his reputation. Just to make sure his small explosion hadn't done any damage, he turned to the nearest man leaning on the bar and offered him a lop-sided grin before speaking, "Don't mind me, just had to make a few complaints to your bar-mistress." Terron winked brightly at the scruffy man, adding loudly as he disappeared back toward the kitchens, "If you have any complaints to make about your bar-mistress, don't hesitate to join me in the kitchen."

As he trekked across the bistro back to where he was most needed he stopped to greet a few regulars who sat around the tables interspersedly. The chef paused longest next to Jackson and Maya's table, greeting both of them with broad smiles. "Hey Beautiful, long time no see! I missed you," he addressed the voluptuous brunette as he leaned down to place a quick kiss on her cheek. Maya had always been one of his favorites, Terron never missed a chance to chat about the handsome gents that came and went in the business with the woman. After he'd greeted her, he offered Jackson the same smile- although with a more flirtatious glint to his eyes, "And if it isn't Mr. Jackson Hughes. Now it really has been a long time, huh? Can't say that I havent' missed that handsome face."

A loud crash jerked Terron's attention quickly back to the stainless-steel doors leading to his realm, and he quickly excused himself from the two, "Sorry- we'll have to catch up later... Duty calls..." The smile on his face faded quickly into a stern look reserved only for his underlings in the kitchen as he turned on the heel of his black shoes and strode confidently toward the kitchen, the double doors clanging shut behind him. The doors weren't fast enough to cut off the exclamation the head chef uttered once out of sight, "Mon Dieu! I really can't leave you fucking idiots alone!"

Lance stayed at the bar for a while keeping to his own devices, scanning the room. He saw Maria come in and out now and then from the kitchen. Lance was curious about her, why would she willingly work for her father the way she does, she could probably do anything she wanted with the connections she has. He ordered a double whiskey from the bartender. Maria had left for a while, this gave him some more time to think about his plan. He had to get it right with her, or he might ruin everything.

Soon enough she came back looking beautiful as usual. She seemed like any other mob boss' daughter, beautiful to the extreme, like a model, however Lance knew she wasn't just some spoiled brat who scrounged of her fathers blood money. She had a brain, she would know that Lance was up to something that he had a plan. Lance stood up from his stool and began to approach her, but then a man stepped in and began speaking to her taking Maria's attention away. Lance just waited until they had finished, slightly annoyed that he didn't get to her quicker. He went back to the bar listening to some men moaning at how they had to wait. Lance was sat at the side of the bar where there wasn't many people, it allowed him to be more incognito but he could be noticed at the same time by the right people. He let Maria serve the men at the bar. She was going around the bar getting various drinks, every time she turned in his direction she wouldn't notice him at first but she knew he was around, Lance could tell. The bar started to calm down and wasn't as busy, Lance took his chance, "Double whiskey when your ready" he called across the bar. He just waited, looking at her.

*mistake sorry was trying to tag my previous post but instead tagged an empty one by acident haha

Terron had come and gone from the bar in a flash, his hissy fit appropriately noted not just by the Occheto girl, but her clientele as well. She rolled her eyes when he sauntered off to gush at Maya and Jackson. "Kill me now," Maria muttered as she wrung her bracelet-embellished wrists and turned her back to the crowd. Her hair sparkled under the bright lights, the flat iron having done a very impressive job on her otherwise voluptuous and undulated mane. Under her rather short dress she wore high waisted black shorts, just to be safe considering the length of the material. The purpling of her throat was poorly masked by Armani silk foundation.

She saw him, that much was true. It was way before the bar bantering died down though. No matter how cruel and unintentional, she would lock eyes with him, break contact and transfer focus away to some other customer. She wondered how any other mob daughter would deal with the unmovable presence of an FBI agent in a place that might as well be her second home. No matter what intentions he had or claimed to have, she had to operate as if she were on dangerously thin ice. It was against her general code of conduct to treat strangers with disregard and a sort of coldness, but the guy was shady. He waltzed in and out of a literal bloody mess and just... Just acted like it was nothing. That was how an Occheto or one of their henchmen acted, sure. But not a fucking FBI agent.

When she could no longer put him off, she bent at the waist and leaned across the counter with her elbows on the polished veneer, "To what do I owe this pleasure?" Her musing was sardonic but somehow charming all at once. Before he could rejoin, she placed a delicate index finger to her puckered, crimson lips, "Hold that thought." She turned to grab a bottle of Wild Turkey. Upon her returning pivot, she stated, "I figured I pick your drink since you're playing in my house now." The words flowed out of her mouth with such momentum that she didn't have time to grimace at how much she sounded like her father. "Drink up," she crooned as she extended a hand wielding a full glass towards him, her eyes encouraging and devious.

(Sorry for the shortness. I'm at work and typing from the phone is hard)

Daniel Takahashi

As he stood at the end of the bar, counting down the minutes till either Maria noticed him or well- she didn't, Daniel found himself suddenly tipped straight into the hard countertops. The breathe whooshed out of him and he hissed in pain as his still-injured ribs connected with the wood of the bartop. "Sorry pup." Those two words were more than enough to inform him as to who the perpetrator of the random shove had been, and his grey eyes shifted to watch Cole Occheto's back as it retreated toward the front door. The translator rubbed gently at the rib Maria had reset as he mumbled to himself in Japanese, "犬じゃない....くたばれ..." It wasn't often he took to cursing at someone when they couldn't understand him, but Cole was now well out of earshot and his side was causing him more than a little bit of pain.

Daniel was distracted from both the man leaving the bistro and the stitch in his side by the familiar voice of Cole's sister. Dropping the hand from his ribs he turned to offer her a sheepish smile at the suggestion that he should be upstairs doing work. She'd caught him right off as he'd expected, it was far more than unusual for him to be down here in the customer area of Buca- let alone at the bar area. Luckily Maria didn't seem to be too disappointed that he'd come to visit- even going so far as to offer him some tea- which made him only slightly second-guess his decision to remain at the bar until she noticed him. He wrapped his hands around the cool glass just as she informed him of the non-alcoholic content and then that there might be drugs contained within; his first reaction was to widen his eyes a little and peer at the drink skeptically. "Eeeeeh...." he started just as an unfamiliar voice this time interrupted them.

"How's the mother Mr. Takahashi?" All of the color drained from Daniel's face as if someone had just flipped a switch, and the drink in his grasp suddenly began to tinkle as the quaking of his hands caused the ice cubes to clank against the side of the glass. His grey eyes flashed from Maria straight to the face of the older man before dropping quickly down to the tea. The simple sentence had suddenly stripped all of his words away and he could barely think straight. Who was this man that knew about his mother? The only person that knew why he was working for Mr. Occheto was the man himself, and he'd promised never to tell, so how in the world had this stranger come by such information? He'd hoped to keep it a secret for his mother's safety; working in this business it was more than likely that she'd become a target used against him in order to get him to act against his boss, so he'd tried to keep her condition as quiet as possible. But here this man was, openly proclaiming he knew not only who Daniel was, but everything about his mother's condition as well.

He didn't have to wait long for his answers, as the man immediately proclaimed to the boss's daughter something about law enforcement. As he gazed absently at the drink in his hands, Daniel slowly put the pieces together. This man must have been the FBI agent everyone was talking about earlier, the one Maya had brought to the slaughter last night... and now he was proposing some sort of deal with Big Daddy? Worriedly Daniel bit his lips, heedless to the freshly healed cut criss-crossing it; what could his mother possibly have to do with all of this? Apparently none of what the man said phased Maria overly much as she casually dismissed the FBI agent.

Daniel was so intent on his own worries he didn't even notice that the man had left until he could feel Maria's breath on his face and hear her voice unusually close, "Anyway… Where were we…?" Blinking rapidly, the young translator looked up through the fringe of his black bangs to find that the woman was leaning across the bartop into his personal space. Before he could stop himself the words popped out of his mouth, "My Mother... th-that man..." He bit off the rest of the sentence and turned his gaze back to the drink in his hand, suddenly deciding he needed to call his mother again to make sure she hadn't had any unusual visitors in the last couple of days. "Th-thank you for the drink Maria.... I'll p-pay when I leave.... Ex-excuse me, I have work to do...," stammering, Daniel offered the woman an un-convincing smile- a little sad to leave her so quickly, despite the worry clenching his chest- and took the drink with him toward the stairs.


Terron Wilks

After reaming out the busboy that had knocked over a full tray of dishes ready to leave the kitchen and forcing him to clean up every last bit off the floor with his hands, Buca's head chef spent a good long while re-orienting himself to the atmosphere in the back of the house- which meant, of course, that he spent the whole time threatening his line cooks with fantastically painful deaths. Terron called out the orders with alacrity, only pausing between the submitted slips for the expected "Oui Chéf!" from the men under him. Of course some might have found it a bit extreme for a kitchen not located in a five-star restaurant, but Terron ran his kitchen the way he wanted to- with an iron fist. Other than the menu- half of which was provided from the recipes given to them by none-other-than Maria Occheto- it was the main reason the kitchen churned out such delicious dishes; it was the chef's personal philosophy that nothing tasted quite as good as discipline.

Nearly two hours later the kitchen was back in acceptable working order for Terron's high expectations, although he occasionally still found himself wapping a careless chef in the back of the head with his hand when a drop of soup or oil flew from the pan. Once he was satisfied that they hadn't completely forgotten how to cook in the two weeks he'd been gone, the head chef allowed himself to take out an order to one of the regular customers himself. Two pastas in hand, he backed through the metal doors into the main dining room to locate the old man that frequented Buca only on Mondays. Gracing the man with his patented grin, Terron slid the food onto the table cloth and winked at his favorite guest, "Hello Gregory, and how's life treating my favorite regular today?" The old man grinned back at him and accepted the wink gladly.

"Not half bad Terron, not half bad. Though I'll be better once I get some of this delicious pasta in me, and I'd be even better than that if I were thirty years younger and you could stay for a dinner-date," the old man added with a laugh.

Laughing as well, the head chef flapped his hand at the older gentleman and smirked, "Oh don't tempt me Greg, Lord knows I have a thing for older men." That done, he excused himself to head back to the kitchen. However on his way to the double doors he noticed the older translator from the other side of the business and an unfamiliar man lurking near the entrance. Terron offered them both a wide grin and took a moment to side-bar over to them on his route, "Hey boys- here for business or pleasure?" He followed the man he didn't know's gaze to the bar area and rolled his eyes when he noted how they focused directly on Maria and the man she'd been talking to before he exited toward the bathroom, "Business it is then... Just send someone back to the kitchen if either of you handsome men decide you'd rather get down to the pleasure aspect." Waving absently to them, he headed in the direction he'd indicated earlier, disappearing once more back into the kitchen.

The two men stayed where they were, out of the way of the dining customers and scurrying waiters, and watched the scene play out like a particularly interesting episode of a drama series. It wasn't hard to see what was going on as the FBI Agent disappeared towards the restroom leaving a more than a little bit miffed Maria and an almost trembling Daniel in his wake. The two men exchanged a glance, Martin with an irritated look and Jude looking like the cat that caught the canary because when someone managed to upset Maria with just a few words and pick on the young translator(or really, any of the employees), well, Jude was almost completely sure he wouldn't have to pull any punches if it came down to that. And, oh, did he hope it came down to that.

The silent conversation was cut off with the arrival of Terron having left his precious kitchen to mingle with some of the customers. Jude stiffened slightly and Martin, well, he just rolled with the punches. Terron was just doing what he did best.

"If you're cooking tonight, I might just have to," Martin replied to Terron as the chef left, unaffected by the flirtatious words, shuffling the papers in his arms. Because if there was one good thing about working above Buca, it was the food available, especially when Terron was ruling his domain the kitchen or Maria had slipped back to satisfy an urge to cook. "He's always like that," He said, absently reassuring Jude who relaxed minutely.

"Cheeky, isn't he?" Jude said, now highly amused by the exchange, watching the kitchen doors swing shut before turning his attention back to the bar area. From what Martin had told him and from what he'd seen tonight, he'd missed out on some interesting times while he avoided Buca.

"You've no idea," Martin snorted. "I'm going to..." He gestured with his head towards the stairs that Daniel had disappeared to. The Irish man nodded.

"I know, I know- Duty calls. Best of luck, and I'll be down here when you're done," Jude replied. Martin, who had given up any hope of shaking the older man before Jude was good and ready to leave on his own, only nodded and made his way up the stairs, avoiding the crowds of people with practiced ease, his papers clutched close to his chest.

Jude watched him go before turning and making his way to the bar. He arrived just in time to catch the weather report, tilting his head slightly. It would be storming again tonight, only much worse than the night before. He would have regretted not bringing an umbrella with him if he wasn't so convinced that it would just turn inside out in the wind. Oh, well. There was business to finish and time to kill. Or, if it were the case, business to kill and time to finish. Whichever.

"Having a bit of a problem, Maria?" He asked, dragging out her name syllable by syllable as he settled down on a seat at the bar. He wasn't the biggest fan of women, but Maria was someone after his own heart. Almost as ruthless and with the same disdain for the actions of a typical woman.

The wind howled and whistled beyond the safety of the premises, causing a lot of clientele to rush on home. Flood warnings were nothing to take lightly especially when warned from the coast, chased with consequential thunder storms. But as far as the majority of Buca's employees where concerned, it was nothing to huff over. Maria particularly enjoyed the rain, but few knew it aside from her big brother and Jackson. Chicago very well might have been the place to live out the rest of her days for that sole constituent. As for the rest of the elements, well, it was highly debatable.

In siren-like fashion, she feigned fainting with a fluttering hand, "Come to rescue me from my distress have you?" The Occheto girl turned her back to Jude, fiddling with a few liquids and concocting something phenomenal for him. Muttering softly, she rejoined, "There's a few things I'd like to be done." She returned to him, a radiant azure drink in her grasp. Sliding it towards him, she chimed, "I'm having trouble deciding on just one method, though." She threw her head back as if she were going to laugh but instead dallied there in a non-intended salacious posture. The high lights at the bar accentuated the structure of her neck, the arch of her spine and distinction of her collar bones. Her eyes rolled back into her head momentarily before she restored her thoughts.

"By the way, that is Curacao and Absolut with some of my home made peach juice. If you hate it, just spit it out on the dumbass to your right." Her eyebrows danced up and down as she indicated towards Jackson, then smirked at Jude and Aurora. "By the way, toots, this is Jude." Maria waved a hand between her brother's girlfriend and the malicious well-dressed man who perhaps interpreted Maria in a way most wouldn't dare. Popping her behind up onto the bar, she scooted it right beside Jude's drink so she could explain, "Maya's less than impressive man-trapping technique got us snagged by our dear FBI agent here. You should have seen the way Cole iced her out for it in front of everyone. She started sobbing like a fucking five year old who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar."

She kicked one high-heeled foot over her opposite thigh, a moan grumbling in her aching throat. "You know, I'm as starved as an Ethiopian child. You want to share some lobster ravioli?" In the company of most people, Maria would withhold such ghoulish humor. But Jude's presence automatically called for her stony-hearted and riotous alter ego. Without an answer, she hopped down and strolled into the kitchen, making quite the grand entrance as she threw her hands up in the air and clapped. A few of the line cooks looked up, but Terron was focusing on something else. Rolling her hips a little in correlation with her raised hands, she announced, "I am famished. Someone bring me some lobster ravioli and an appetizer sampler for my beloved guests."

One of the large line cooks snorted, his rugged desires hardly contained as they swirled in his gut upon observing the way Maria moved. She turned, looked over her shoulder and winked at Terron, "Oh and, go easy on the arsenic." Upon her approach to the bar again, she didn't so much as glance at Jackson as she returned to Jude.

Daniel Takahashi

On his way up the stairs to his office, Daniel couldn't stop his shaking and he had to stop the instant he reached the landing to place the tea Maria had given him on a conveniently placed side-table in order to keep it from spilling. A heavy, forced sigh echoed down the empty hall before him as he leaned against the wall to try and calm himself. No matter how desperate he was to call and check on his Okaa-san, he wasn't fool enough to do it when he could barely keep his hands still let alone his voice. Even in her current state, his mother was perceptive beyond belief and would instantly be able to pick up on any emotion changing the inflection of his voice. As it was he hadn't thought of a way to try and ask her if she'd had any unusual visitors without arousing her suspicions. Daniel began to contemplate this problem as it suddenly occurred to him, and slowly he began to calm down. Maybe it was best to just be vague about the whole business and let her draw her own conclusions.

Once he'd decided how best to handle his mother, he flicked his phone out of his pocket and dialed her quickly. The woman answered on the first ring, concern etching her voice as she inquired as to why her son had called so quickly after hanging up. Daniel was quick to reassure her that nothing was wrong, only that he'd forgotten to ask her a question when on the phone earlier. After he paused for a moment he asked her, forgetting for a moment to speak in Japanese, "Mom, has anyone you don't been by to.... visit?" The second the words were out of his mouth he cursed himself silently, his mother would know something was up the minute she heard English on the phone. Surprisingly his mother replied in the same language, her voice taking on an unusual quality.

"Why Kazuki? Is there someone that should have visited me?"

"Huh, mom.... What are you.....?"

"Like I don't know... your girlfriend?"

Rolling his eyes Daniel sighed heavily, "No Mom, not my girlfriend.... And not my boyfriend either." He added the last bit before she had a chance to say anything else, letting another sigh escape- this time a one of relief. If she was so open about it and to lax it was obvious that nothing suspicious had happened to her. Before his mother could begin the conversation again- she was forever trying to get him to bring his supposed partner to the hospital to visit her for fear she would leave him alone- Daniel spoke again, "Sorry mom, I'm actually still at work- so I'll call you later. 好きだよ. またね!" After that he quickly flipped the phone closed and picked up his tea before heading down the hall to Martin's office to retrieve the bag he'd left there the other day.

Terron Wilks

Much to his chagrin, Terron found the amount of orders he was getting decreasing more and more as the evening wore on- which was undoubtably a result of the winds gusting outside, but still irritating. He'd spent two weeks on vacation and was ready to come back to a kitchen in full-swing and here he was bored out of his mind. The lack of orders was so vexing that he had even taken to icing and decorating the desserts himself, shooing the usual bakery chef off and sending him home early. As he drew a complex piece using chocolate on an empty plate to prepare it for a dessert that was still in the process of cooking, he glowered angrily. The line chefs knew better than to bother him in this kind of mood, so he'd spent the last ten minutes in near silence other than the occasional clinking of cooking ware from behind him.

The quiet was interrupted by a small whirlwind that busted through the door in a gale of light fabric and black hair. Maria's voice bounced off the clean surfaces as she proclaimed her need for ravioli to the line of men standing in front of their stations. When the proclamation was greeted with a snort, Terron whirled from his place and glared at the man- making him shrink back as if slapped. Responding to the wink and Maria's statement "Oh and, go easy on the arsenic" the head chef smiled at his favorite little Italian girl, waving her off as he called after her, "Don't worry- I'll get to it myself." And with that he kicked the man in charge of the pasta dishes out of his place and began issuing orders.

In no time at all Maria's lobster ravioli and her sampler were ready and perfectly prepped. Terron slid a clean white cloth along the edge of the plates before untying his apron and hanging it up on the peg to appear more presentable to what little clientele was still in the restaurant. Balancing the plates expertly on one arm he snagged the special dessert tray he'd been making out of boredom on his way out of the kitchen and headed through the silver door.



Striding quickly across the room, Terron found his way to the bar and placed the plates before Maria with practiced ease. The chef offered Jude a brilliant smile as he slid the dessert plate up next to the others. Not removing his eyes from the handsome man, he addressed himself to Maria, "I was bored so I made something special- help yourself." Terron gestured to the empty seat next to the man at the bar and raised an eyebrow, "May I?"

Maria Occheto

Whenever in Jude's company, Maria felt like her wit and acumen wasn't going to waste. It was refreshing and she enjoyed him on a level that would make other employees jealous. For someone so sinister and cunning, Jude wore the demeanor of a business-oriented gentleman as he made a charming follow-up to Maria's introduction between Aurora and himself. To the exchange Maria stood by, smiling with sensual and mannerly ease. She was glad he was following on the same page, as she felt slightly rude for not getting them acquainted briefly sooner.

"Oh honey, you have no idea," Maria replied to Jude as she watched him down his drink with gratification. "I'll save the details, you could find the same ones in a soap opera. How's your drink?" Carefully, she leaned her small frame back against the liquor cabinet and went through her tips, counting and dividing it with her manicured fingers while her green eyes focused. She'd made enough in tips alone to get her tires changed like she should have before the last big storm, but she figured she'd tuck it away for another rainy day ironically enough. Maria's eyes flickered from the currency to the handsome chef tootling her way, beautiful arrays of food in hand.

"My hero!" Maria exclaimed, fighting the urge to jump up and down like a cheerleader who hadn't seen food in weeks. Again the hungry moans gurgled in her throat, her stomach nagging. When Terron slipped into Jude and Maria's bubble, she expected nothing less than sarcasm and witty flirting. Before she could so much a snag a ravioli, her iPhone vibrated in her bra, causing her to do an odd sort of dance. She wriggled and then regained her balance, pulling the fabric away from her collar bone and retrieving the device to read a text from her brother. Even as she stood, slightly slanted, she had one tanned leg over the other. It was force of habit from wearing dresses so often. Her dress, cinched at the waist, tended to flow here and there as drafts of air caught its seam.

Her eyes narrowed as she stood completely vertical, tossing a look of concern Jude's way, "I'm going to have to come back to this all later… Don't let the toilet expeditioner go anywhere, Jude. " She plucked a single ravioli from the whimsical, well-designed plate and chewed on it. Longingly, she moaned again and crumbled a little, "Ugh, be still my heart." She made an 'OK' signal with her index finger and thumb towards Terron before grabbing her keys from the counter and trotting out to her car, calling over her shoulder, "Don't have too much fun without me!" There was no way in hell she was letting Jackson in on this one.

By the time Daniel had finished with his phone call, Martin was already set up in his office, neck deep in paperwork. His hands moved almost like he was writing to a beat, each pen movement on the page, each paper flip, every staple like an office orchestra that he was single-handedly conducting and performing all by himself. It was all automatic at this point as he scanned a page, eyes taking in the available information with incredibly speed.

The temp was broken when Daniel entered the room, tea in hand and looking as exasperated as ever. Martin stopped what he was doing to give the younger man a smile. He still looked awful, but no surprise there. It had only been one day after all.

"Your bag and your paperwork from yesterday is right over here," He said, wheeling his chair over to the small stack of completed papers and bag and holding it out for Daniel. "How are you feeling today?" It wasn't just a casual question; he sounded legitimately concerned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Like a soap opera, hm? He didn't doubt it in the least; it was amazing how in this industry, life could be eerily similar to those dramas that the critics wrote off as improbable. Love affairs gone wrong, random deaths, and bastard children were all almost everyday occurrences in the grand scheme of things. Sadly enough, it was even more headache inducing to deal with it in person than to watch it on television.

"My drink is amazing. I think I made the right decision in trusting my bartender," Jude hummed in reply, taking another sip as if demonstrating how good he thought it was. As much as he enjoyed the drink, he had to watch how much he drank and how fast in one sitting. Jude prided himself on his presence of mind and ability to think on his feet, especially in an environment like Buca's when you never knew what was going to happen. Too much to drink and he'd be off his game and that most definitely was not okay.

He glanced up to notice the man from earlier, balancing the plates Maria had ordered only a moment ago expertly in his hands as he approached the bar. Maria was practically jumping for joy, her stomach rumbling with just as much enthusiasm as the young chef slid the plates onto the bar. He was just observing the desserts- an intricate display that he wasn't sure if he should eat or admire like a piece of modern art- when Maria did an strange little dance before pulling her cellphone out of her bra. It appeared that the lovely Lady Occheto was being called away on duty.

"Aye-Aye, love," He said with a mock-salute, lips still pulled into a smile as she snagged a piece of ravioli before hurrying on her way. "And I promise nothing!" He called after her as she disappeared out the door and into the storm beyond.

With Maria gone, he turned his attention to the second most interesting person in the room- the handsome young chef still smiling brilliantly at him. He was definitely attractive, but that seemed to be a requirement to work for the Occheto family these days.

"Of course. Go ahead," He said, offering up the seat absently before turning back to the food. It smelled amazing, especially since the Irish man hadn't eaten for quite some time. He grabbed a fork and took a bite of the pasta, letting out an appreciative groan when the flavors hit his tongue. This was much better than the garbage he normally grabbed when he was out and about.

Daniel Takahashi

Finding Martin within his office shouldn't have surprised the young translator, but the moment the other man spoke Daniel nearly jumped out of his skin. He could have sworn he'd seen Martin downstairs earlier, and he hadn't even noticed him come up the stairs he'd been so engrossed in the conversation with his mother. The reaction he'd illicited due to his fright caused a sheepish grin to creep its way onto his bruised face as he slid around the door to enter the other man's office; if he'd realized that Martin were in his office he most certainly would have knocked, his mother would be disgusted with how poor his manners had gotten no matter the reason for his distractions. Luckily the older translator didn't seem too put off at his intrusion, however, as he was quick to offer him the items he'd come for and a word of concern, "How are you feeling today?"

Placing the glass of tea on the only spare inch of desk he could find, Daniel took the bag and papers gratefully before sliding the strap carefully over his less-bruised shoulder. As he worked the bag up on his arm he turned his gaze to Martin's and replied as genuinely as possible, "I-I'm fine... A lot better, actually." He couldn't be sure whither or not it was just his physical well-being that was being inquired after, especially since Martin had seen him breakdown into tears just a day before outside this very office. Either way, Daniel wasn't exactly sure how he was feeling. For sure his side still ached with every breath and every muscle in his body was sore, but it was still better than it had been; on the other hand, he couldn't say anything about his mental state, he was coping at least.

"Umm... thanks again for... this," he gestured with the stack of papers he'd taken from Martin's hand, "and well... everything....I really owe you." There wasn't enough time for Daniel to thank Martin for everything he'd done for him from the moment he'd joined the business, and he certainly wasn't eloquent to produce the words he'd need to do so. Instead, he settled for giving the older man a serious look as he clutched the papers in his hands, "I-if.... If I can ever do something to help you.... please, let me know?" Although he wasn't sure what he could possibly do to help Martin, he felt like the relationship was more than a little one-sided and would do anything to reciprocate.


Terron Wilks

Bright blue eyes finally shifted from the mystery man's face to the woman behind the bar as Maria began to do an odd jig the second the chef had set the plates down. Terron raised an eyebrow at her as she fished a phone from the inside of her dress, muttering to himself inaudibly, "Women..." Sometimes he just couldn't understand the opposite sex no matter how hard he tried; what in the world would possess them to place a phone there of all places? It seemed horribly uncomfortable and more than a little inconvenient. All the same, who was he to judge? At this very moment there was an overly large handgun tucked awkwardly down the back of his uniform slacks; in fact, he had to adjust the gun in order to sit properly on the barstool he slid onto.

A smile replaced the judgmental expression of a moment before as Maria stole a filled pasta from the still-warm plate he'd brought her, her eyes nearly rolling back in her head as she moaned over the food. If there was one thing about cooking that made Terron happy every time, it was watching the looks on people's faces when they dug into a dish he'd prepared- which was something he couldn't often do, being stuck in the back of the house actually preparing them. When the woman signed him an okay he laughed a little and leaned his elbows against the bar. "I think it's better than okay," he chuckled as she swiped her keys and headed out from behind the bar- leaving Aurora alone to attend to the three men and the nearly-empty dining room's alcohol needs. The chef offered a small wave to her back as she called out to them and the man sitting beside him responded.

Once the tiny woman had sauntered out the backdoor, Terron immediately turned his attention back to the stranger Maria had been flirting with as he walked up. Even though he hadn't actually waited for the man's permission to sit down, when it was given he smiled broadly and thanked him. The smile on his face only grew when his neighbor dug into the food he'd brought out and let out a groan once it hit his tongue. Leaning his chin onto the palm of his hand, Terron reached over to nick one of the toasted ravioli from the appetizer sampler and commented happily, "I'll take it that means you like it?" As he placed the fried bit of pasta against his lips he grinned and added, "I'm a pretty good cook if I do say so myself." With that he popped the bite into his mouth and crunched away happily, before putting his free hand over his mouth, "I'm Terron. Terron Wilks- head chef of this fine establishment. And you are?"

Maria Occheto

It didn't take Maria long to pull up to the cafe, given that she was promptly prepared to choke Skye until her eyeballs hung out of her sockets. She spotted her brother's car and parked right beside it just in time to catch the girl from the bistro shoving a note under his windshield wiper. The resilient starless clouds draped seemingly over the street lamps, causing the parking lot to be fairly unilluminated. Precautionary, of course, she wedged her shiny .40 into the shorts beneath the skirt of her dress. She sat silently, watching the girl with the pregnant belly wobble away from her brother's car. Inevitably, the sight of this would raise more than a few questions. Maria had her doubts but --- could she put it past her brother?

A roll of thunder surged through the foundation of Chicago's streets, making Maria's knees buckle a little as she stepped from her car. As if egging it on, summoning it, she looked up to the empyrean with eager bliss. Then, silence. Stagnant, dry air. Such disappointment. At least if it rained she could resort to drowning Skye rather than choking her. Either way, Skye's lungs would be compromised enough to leave Maria as smitten as a kitten. With a huff, she crouched a bit and gazed into the cafe before creeping inside, her hair masking her identity enough to hook a seat off to the cornerside unnoticed. As she passed the backs of Skye and the mystery man, she caught small segments of the conversation which made her curiosity a hollow, starved monster that began to gnaw at her thoughts.

She rested a flat palm to the side of her face most exposed, ordering a latte. Nothing quite satisfied her inflow of caffeine like catching someone redhanded. She sipped at the straw, her eyes and ears honed to the maximum. Eavesdropping was a dexterity Maria picked up on young when her father was sneaking in and out of the house late at night. By the time she was in high school, she was practically a professional spy.

Martin couldn't help the feeling of amusement that overtook his features when Daniel jumped in surprise when he spoke. It was rather adorable, the sheepish smile that took over the younger man's features like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But the feeling dissipated quickly since sharing that same face was the same multitude of bruises from the night before, a painful reminder that it wasn't just another day at the office for the two.

Perhaps a little paranoid, his eyes followed the glass of tea being set down on his desk on the small gap not covered with papers or office supplies. It wasn't that he didn't trust Daniel, it was just that he didn't trust anyone with liquid around his papers after the unfortunate incident two years ago when he'd had to redo a whole month's worth of paperwork after he'd spilled a cup of coffee on the desk. The memories were still traumatic.

"You're welcome, but you don't really have to thank me," He replied with a little, genuine smile. In his own quiet, unobtrusive way, Martin had been keeping any eye on the younger translator since the day Big Daddy carted him into the office, figuratively trembling in his boots. But he'd done it of his own volition, having seen something in the younger man that he'd seen years before- himself in the mirror before everything went straight to Hell or purgatory or wherever it was that he worked now.

At the stammered offer, Martin looked at him contemplatively, pen idly tapping against his bottom lip. Despite the stuttering, it was an honest offer, born either out of friendship or obligation.

"I'll do that, Daniel. Thank you." And he meant it, kind of, in that he meant the thank you part. He didn't know if he could bring himself to put more of a burden on Daniel's shoulders, no matter how dire the situation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Don't worry about mixing them up; you're right," Jude said to Aurora in confirmation. "I was born in raised on the Emerald Isle." Which was as much information as he generally spread about himself. It wasn't like he could get away from his Irish roots short of adopting a new accent. Besides, it came in handy since Americans just became so charmed the moment you started speaking with an accent from Great Britain or Ireland.
He took another bite of pasta savoring the flavors as he chewed. Maybe he'd have to drop in here more often if he was fed like this every time he showed up. And the company was certainly interesting. He didn't miss the jealousy practically radiating off Jackson when Maria had left. Not that he had anything to be jealous of- there was no chance of Jude or Maria going down that path. Not that anyone could know that except for a select few. Oh, well. May as well let the pretty-boy thug angst. It was more fun like that.

"Jude King, humble employee of the Occheto family," He introduced himself, attention once more claimed by Terron. "Lovely to meet you, Terron. By the by, humility doesn't suit you- you're a brilliant cook. You may as well own up to it." He took another bite of the dish as if proving a point, lips curling into a contented smile. But, like a particularly absent-minded child, his attention was caught by something other than the food and company.

There was a large Russian terrorizing one of Buca's hostesses. No one had gotten up to do anything about the situation, but Jude wasn't about to take the initiative. It was his night off and international problems, besides his own of course, weren't really his area. And now there was a younger man asking about a job. Never a dull moment.

Daniel Takahashi

A real smile crept onto his face as Martin acknowledged the offer he'd made, agreeing to let him know if there was anything he could do to help. Even though he hadn't been given any way to help the older man yet, just the acknowledgment of his offer was enough to make him feel a lot better about the one-sidedness of the relationship. "I should... I should probably get to work now," he suddenly realized after a moment of standing awkwardly in the middle of Martin's overflowing office. With his back now securely on his shoulder, Daniel gingerly grabbed the tea he'd placed on the edge of the desk- careful not to let it touch any of the man's documents- and began to back toward the door. "Thank you... again," He added with a final grin as he turned to jimmy open the door and slide through the small crack he created for himself and his bag.

Once in the hallway he turned and made his way down to the door of his office, juggling papers and glass to successfully open the door. For a moment he stood outside the converted closet and tried to figure out how best to get past the piles of paper to his desk with his hands full and the light out. Finally Daniel settled for placing the tea on the ground and using his less-hurt hand to yank the string hanging from the overhead light and to make it easier to navigate. With tea and papers in hand he slipped through the stacks of files-closing the door securely behind him- and made his way to his desk and the laptop sitting on it.

It took him mere moments to settle himself in, although his side protested at the stiffness of his seat, and in less than five minutes he was knee-deep in files sent over from some shipment office in China. Despite everything that had happened the last couple of days, it was easy for him to sink into the easy rhythms he'd appropriated for translating. All of his thoughts faded- the killings, the beating, even Maria- as he focused on changing the shipping invoices from Mandarin into English.



Terron Wilks

The chef's attention- which up until this point had been focused like a lazer on the pretty Irish man in front of him- was distracted momentarily by Jackson's voice from the man's other side. A smile cascaded across his face and he couldn't help but laugh as he leaned around the stranger's back- invading his personal space just a trifle- to give the enforcer a look. "Ah Jackson," he chuckled, "I just got here and now you're sending me back to the kitchen? Your jealousy knows no bounds." Terron held up a hand before changing into serious mode for a moment, "Just give me a moment to finish flirting with this gentleman and I'll whip you up something amazing- it's not like the kitchens in use for much else right now anyway." As he spoke his last words he gestured with his head to the nearly empty dining room which contained the foursome at the bar, a couple of waiters and the hostess, as well as a tall gentleman who had just stepped in through the front door. If he didn't miss his guess this was probably how it would be for the wrest of the night, so he might as well tell the men in the back to clean up, prep for tomorrow, and dismiss half of them for the night. Although it was boring in the back at this point, Jackson's request had given him a reason to return and do that much at least.

His conversation with Jackson summarily finished, Terron once more leaned back into his seat and waited for the man beside him to finish addressing Aurora and turn back to him. As he waited, the chef listened to their exchange with a raised eyebrow, "Irish, huh? Dated British before, but never Irish... Or have I? Hmm...." Lost for a moment in his own thoughts he jumped a little when the man introduced himself finally. In addition to giving his name, Jude complemented Terron's cooking- which was a bonus to his good looks in Terron's ranking ledger. A smirk claimed his face and he shrugged, "Well, five years at culinary school will do that to you. I'd be a shit student if I couldn't do this much at least."

Terron's flirtation was stopped as he noticed a new man approach the bar and inquire to no one in particular as to a job. Within seconds he'd sized the man up and found that- while attractive- he wasn't much his style, but that of course wouldn't keep the chef from playing with him a little. So he slid off his seat and offered Jude one last smile before excusing himself, "Sorry Jude, but I have to return to the kitchen for a moment. Don't hesitate to come to the back if you need something while I'm gone." His attentions turned from the Irishman to the newcomer and he approached him on his way to the kitchen, "A job you say? Well depends- back of house or front? If you're looking for a kitchen position I'm your man, if not.... I suppose Aurora will have to see to you." With his patented grin on his face he gestured to the himself and then the woman behind the bar before starting to walk once more toward the stainless steel doors to his domain, "Make your decision and follow or stay!"

"Not a problem. Stop in if you need anything," Martin said, waving absently as the younger translator made his escape. The anything really meant anything- help with work, an ear to listen, even just another presence to eek away at the boredom and loneliness that is paperwork in cramped offices. He turned back to his papers, but he was distracted now, thoughts wandering far away from the Russian letters currently spread out in front of him.

The past two days had been...eventful. Even as a spectator, he felt drained just from witnessing the violent events. Not that it was the worse that he'd seen, but it had been quite awhile since he'd seen something like that. Usually his business went smoothly. Usually Buca was like a safe zone, a time out from the violence that was lying in wait just outside the door on the streets of Chicago. He sighed and went back to work; hopefully he'd get to sleep tonight if he finished soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jude watched on in amusement when Terron spoke to Jackson, index finger running along the rim of his glass. It was almost enough to make Jude envious, the way the younger man could be so casual about, well, everything. Then again, as Martin had assured him earlier, this was normal behavior for the younger man, so everyone was probably just used to it by now.

"Five years? My, aren't we impressive," Jude hummed, raising his eyebrows as he took another sip of the drink Maria had fixed for him, the azure liquid sloshing in the glass as he set it down on the bar. That was when he noticed the FBI agent standing in the foyer, having finally returned from the restroom. He looked eager to leave, but hesitated. A grin grew on Jude's face.

"Take your time. You've a job to do, after all," He said, waving off the excuse. And, right now, so did he. Maria had told him to keep the agent from leaving, after all. Jude swiveled his seat around, leaning back on the bar as he finally had his full attention on Lance, smiling lopsidedly. The man was obviously reaching for a gun, but far from making Jude tense, it only served to excite him more.

"Leaving so soon?" He asked, voice carrying through the nearly empty restaurant like an actor's voice through an auditorium. His unnerving gray eyes remained entirely focused on the man in front of him. "Rude, that. Not even saying goodbye." He tutted like he was speaking to a naughty child.

For quiet some time, Rob just sat there, waiting for someone to notice. Nevertheless it was his fault, he didn't phrase his question to anyone in particular, so naturally he had to wait. What did he want to do anyway? Serve drinks? Cook? none of those seemed the least bit exciting to him. One man, who seemed to be a cook approached rob. The man didn't look any different from the average man, except, he smiled a lot. "A job you say? Well depends- back of house or front? If you're looking for a kitchen position I'm your man, if not.... I suppose Aurora will have to see to you.". Rob grinned and looked up at the cook, "I can't cook for the life of me." Rob joked as the cook went back to his kitchen. "Make your decision and follow or stay!" the cook said while pointing at one of the bartenders who Rob understood to be Aurora.

There was a hell of a lot of noise, it was too late for that much noise. Rob turned and noticed a big man arguing and harassing one of the hostesses. Mind you, Rob wasn't the kind of guy who let these things go unnoticed. With a disgusted look on his face Rob got off from the stood and stuck his hand in his jacket pocket, pulling out a knife in the process. It took three seconds for the knife to his the man right in the tie, impaling it to a nearby wall, two seconds for the man to realize what had happened, and one second for Rob to be up in the man's face with a knife at his throat. "Now look, I know its none of my business and this and that, but don't you think you are just a tad too large to be harassing a young and pretty hostess as this?" Even though the man was much bigger then Rob, he could do nothing. He had a knife to his throat, he was at Rob's mercy, completely speechless. "Next time, that knife wont miss." Of-course the knife didn't miss, Rob can hit a target very accurately from that far away.

Rob released the man and walked back to the bar, this time speaking to the woman he believed to be aurora. "Now that me getting a job is completely hopeless, let me get whiskey on the rocks."

Daniel Takahashi

What seemed only a short while later, but it must have been an hour and a half or more at least Daniel was just beginning to type in the transcriptions of the ledger into his laptop. Every so often the young translator had to pause and reconsider how to properly express what had been written into understandable and correct English, which was quite a bit more difficult than it sounded. He was mulling over one particular expression when pounding footsteps could be heard coming up the hallway that lead to his and Martin's offices. A second later he nearly tipped over the glass full of ice from the tea Maria had supplied him when a bellowing voice shouted in Russian for none other than Martin. Clutching the nearly-empty glass in one hand he nursed his throbbing side with the other, biting back a multitude of curse words because the shock had caused him to jump so hard he'd managed to do something bad to his rib all over again.

Something about the tone of the man's voice didn't bode well for his coworker, and since he'd just promised to do anything to help the older man, Daniel struggled slowly out from behind his desk. With the cup of melty ice still in his hand he stepped over piles of stacked documents and maneuvered his way toward the door to the hall. Just as he was opening the solid wood paneling to lean out and see what the commotion was he heard Martin's voice addressing whomever it was that had been shouting moments before. Although it was against everything in him to poke into any business- even his own- he forced himself to at least lean out of his door way. What he saw made him instantly want to turn around and hide back in his office.

The man standing in front of Martin was obviously on some kind of war path, and Daniel could tell even from this distance that he was fuming over something. Even though his Russian was a bit rusty he could tell that the older translator was attempting to calm him down in any way possible, probably so the muscular man wouldn't deck him or something worse. For long moments he stood watching them utterly shell-shocked as the huge Russian nearly picked Martin up off the floor and raged in a mixture of two tongues. Suddenly and unexpectedly he found himself stepping forward and hurrying after them into the older translator's office. His voice squeaked a little as it came out, "Umm.... I don't know what's going on, but.... Sir... would you like me to get.... Cole or Big Daddy?" This obviously went way beyond either him or Martin's pay grade.



Terron Wilks

In the process of locating more cheese in the dry storage for the ravioli Jackson had requested, Terron was interrupted by loud shouting emanating from the kitchen on the other side of the heavy metal door. Instantly his eyebrows knitted together angrily, but he waited until he'd properly rewrapped and replaced the wheel of cheese he'd taken a square from before storming out of the pantry and back into the stark whiteness of the main kitchen area. By the time he reappeared the line chefs were alone once more, all of them staring open-mouthed at the door that still swung on its hinges. Obviously whomever had been screaming in his kitchen was now gone and therefore not his problem for the moment; so he snapped his fingers angrily and said in a strained voice, "And why is no one prepping for tomorrow.... AND INSTEAD STANDING AROUND LIKE IDIOTS?!" The last words were shouted with such malice that every single person in the kitchen jumped and sprung into action at increased speed.

Shaking his head he smacked an older man upside the head as he made his way back to the area where he'd been prepping the lobster ravioli and a special Italian-influence meat blend ravioli he'd created to take up a little more of his down time. After another couple of minutes he was satisfied with the presentation and the amount of all three plates- another made up for Aurora or the kid from before if either wanted it-; so he placed the plates once more on a single arm and headed toward the entrance to the dining area. Before he exited he gave each remaining cook a death-glare to ensure they'd keep doing what he'd told them to.

Terron emerged once more into the main room, only to stop dead and raise an eyebrow at the shouting he could hear from somewhere on the second floor. The chef ignored it pointedly and headed back over to the bar where the two men he'd left still sat, now joined by the boy from earlier who'd informed him he couldn't cook worth a shit. Jude was apparently giving some man who appeared to be reaching into his jacket- most likely for a gun- a death glare, but other than that nothing had changed. Ignoring the stare down- it was too usual for Buca for him to worry- the head chef placed the plates in a quick line next to the three from earlier along with bundles of silverware he'd picked up on the way.

Once more Terron plopped himself down next to the Irishman, this time saving the flirting for when the stare-down was over. Using a fork he dug into some of the ravioli that still remained and sat quietly as he waited for Jackson, Aurora, or the boy to dig into the food he'd brought.

Daniel Takahashi

Half-way through typing his message to Cole, which was taking twice as long as any normal message given how awkward it was to use the phone practically behind his back, Daniel was interrupted by a sudden voice from right beside him. The fright from the sudden intrusion was so much that he literally jumped and nearly dropped his phone on the floor, just managing to catch it in the nick of time. After a tense second of juggling the phone he managed to press it against his chest only in time to be shoved gracelessly out of the door by the newcomer. Daniel had just a moment to recognize the man that had been slinking around Buca for the last couple of days before he found himself plopped out into the hallway on his ass.

This time he did actually drop his phone; unable to catch it he watched it skitter down the hallway and out of reach. For the moment Daniel chose to ignore the machine- the screen was probably unusable now anyway- and just sat where he had fallen, clutching his side. He forced air in and out of his lungs as his ribs screamed in pain over the rough treatment, but other than that he didn't do anything more. Grey eyes peered around Jackson's towering form through the small gaps between him and the thresh-hold to try and make out what was going on inside the office and if Martin was still alright.

Although he really wanted to scurry back down the hallway to his office, the pain in his side as well as the worry he felt for the closest thing he had to a friend in the business kept him sitting where he was. Daniel was infinitely relieved to be out of the crazy Russian's line of site, with a large, armed man blocking him from view. No matter how many times he was met with a hostile situation in this line of work, he never got used to it, and every single time he was still scared out of his wits. However, usually when things such as this occurred there were usually more enforcers as well as Cole or Mr. Occheto to stand between him and whatever client they had angered; so he felt especially justified in being a bit more frightened than usual on this particular occasion.



Terron Wilks

With a ravioli poised half-way to his mouth, Terron watched with a quirked eyebrow as the man he'd just brought food to popped out of his seat and headed up the stairs- gun in hand. If he didn't miss his guess, something very interesting was happening on the floor above. However, it was really none of his business and as long as it had nothing to do with him or the kitchen he wasn't going to get involved. The only way in which this concerned him was that now the pasta he'd brought was getting cold. With a sigh he waved the ravioli and fork in his hand absently at the plates Jackson had just abandoned. "Sad, all my hard work. Gone to waste....," he mumbled to himself before turning the fork around and popping the piece of stuffed pasta into his mouth.

Terron chewed quietly for a moment, his blue eyes constantly switching focus between the stand-off occurring a few feet from him, the slender female bartender and her new charge, and the stairs that Jackson had just escaped up. This was why he hated staying in the kitchen all the time, you always missed the fun bits. The most exciting thing that ever happened back of house was when someone accidentally cut himself or when a waitress came in to complain about a customer.

Eating another ravioli he allowed his attention to turn to the windows as a huge gust of window shook them and caused a spatter of raindrops that sounded more like gun-fire than precipitation to cascade against the building. The chef wrinkled his nose distastefully, now he'd either have to get a ride home or wait in the restaurant until the rains had subsided; Terron hated driving in the rain more than anything else- which was why he'd spent the last week and a half in Paris where he didn't have to worry about driving at all. As much as he'd wanted to come back to Buca, he still missed the time he'd spent visiting old haunts while on his vacation. At least he hadn't returned to a boring normal day at the bistro.