Orin was increasingly coming to believe that there might actually be something wrong with the woman’s emotions. She seemed to cool, calm, and poised in the face of his emotional outbursts. Normal people showed a lot more in their faces, even if they tried to disguise their emotions, than Kamilla did, and so Orin wondered where this odd lady had come from and what her background was such that she showed no more emotion than a corpse. She didn’t seem at all fazed by his actions, simply trying to turn this situation, Orin’s distress, into an advantage for her. Orin had dealt with a lot of people in his life, both when he was acting emotionally and when he was relaxed, and not a one of them had ever acted in the way that Kamilla was. It made it difficult for the chef, who was used to managing people’s emotions in most of his interactions. When there were apparently no emotions to deal with, those, many of his hard earned social skills were useless.
Still, it must be nice to be able to be so stoic. Orin himself had maintained many a mask of his emotions over the years, but he’d never actually been able to master even appearing emotionless. Instead, he acted in a way that he didn’t feel, faking a cheerful demeanor as necessary simply to get through the day. This expressionless woman definitely had him beat in that regard, and he wished that he could be as blank as she. Instead, he was the very opposite, at least right now. Under other, less desperate circumstances Orin was at least able to hide his feelings, but right now everything was writ large on his face and in his body. He almost felt as if he were deliberately projecting and something was feeding off his fears and anxieties, which was a crazy thought, and yet he couldn’t shake the odd feeling that it was true. Still, he had bigger issues to worry about.
They entered the kitchen, which Orin felt smelled delicious, and might tempt Kamilla to stay for longer than she otherwise might. It was crowded and slightly, more disorganized than usual, which wasn’t great, given that he wanted Kamilla to enjoy this experience. “Here, let me show you to the table.” They kept a table in here, off in a corner, because occasionally friends or important customers wanted to see the inner working of The Almond Blossom, or the staff wanted to eat sitting down, or any number of other explanations. Orin privately called it the chef’s table, although he mainly at standing up.
It was good that Kamilla didn’t seem to have strong preferences towards any one dish in particular, as there wasn’t really much here for her to eat, since everything was in the process of being prepared but not actually ready yet. Orin cursed internally, and took the plates with the treats from her. “Feel free to keep munching on those if you’d like. Give me a few chimes to get something else for you to eat.” He left her there, and tried to think hard about what he might prepare for her. The obvious choice was the chicken that he’d been planning to consume himself. His appetite was gone, though; lost along with his taste due to the hard knots of worry he could feel in his stomach. Wrapping his hands in cloth again, he opened the oven, standing back as a blast of superheated air washed over him. Then he slid the chicken out, pleased to see that its skin was a nice golden brown. He set it aside in its plate on a nearby counter to cool.
He considered what else he could give to her. Since he didn’t want to touch anything that Dolmar was preparing, that left him with seafood. Orin smiled, fire lighting in his stomach as he decided he’d give her his best work. He really wanted to impress her, perhaps being offended that she had shown such small reactions to him otherwise. It bothered him immensely that she wasn’t responsive and so he was determined to illicit something more than the small shifts in her facial features that she’d given him so far. Heading into the pantry, Orin grabbed a red wine sauce that he’d made last night, along with a salmon fillet. Thankfully this process would be sped up by all the prep work he’d been doing, as all he had to do was throw the salmon onto a frying pan for a bit and it would be ready.
Speaking of ready, the chicken should be safe to eat and Orin grasped its plate gingerly and transported it to Kamilla. He placed it down before her, smiling as best he could, although he was sure there was a bit of a deranged edge to it, as his passionate emotions were still running far too high. “This is a whole roasted chicken with lemon and rosemary. Don’t feel obligated to eat it all on your own.” Indeed, that would be quite a bit to ingest, and Orin wanted her to have room for the salmon as well.
He grabbed a fork and knife and two more plates, and set one before her and one on the opposite end of the table. One chicken dish, one seafood dish, and a dessert would probably satisfy her condition for only a few tastings, but Orin would see if he could wrangle more out of the agreement. “I’ll be back in a bit with another dish for you to try.” He figured he could finish off whatever she didn’t eat of it, although without his taste it would be a waste. While he wasn’t hungry, he knew he should eat something or else the stress might cause him to pass out or something equally embarrassing. For now, though, his nerves were taught and propelling him to keep moving. He greased a pan, then put the salmon on it and put it on a stove. It would be a few chimes before it was ready and so Orin shifted until he could watch Kamilla’s reaction to the latest food.
Still, it must be nice to be able to be so stoic. Orin himself had maintained many a mask of his emotions over the years, but he’d never actually been able to master even appearing emotionless. Instead, he acted in a way that he didn’t feel, faking a cheerful demeanor as necessary simply to get through the day. This expressionless woman definitely had him beat in that regard, and he wished that he could be as blank as she. Instead, he was the very opposite, at least right now. Under other, less desperate circumstances Orin was at least able to hide his feelings, but right now everything was writ large on his face and in his body. He almost felt as if he were deliberately projecting and something was feeding off his fears and anxieties, which was a crazy thought, and yet he couldn’t shake the odd feeling that it was true. Still, he had bigger issues to worry about.
They entered the kitchen, which Orin felt smelled delicious, and might tempt Kamilla to stay for longer than she otherwise might. It was crowded and slightly, more disorganized than usual, which wasn’t great, given that he wanted Kamilla to enjoy this experience. “Here, let me show you to the table.” They kept a table in here, off in a corner, because occasionally friends or important customers wanted to see the inner working of The Almond Blossom, or the staff wanted to eat sitting down, or any number of other explanations. Orin privately called it the chef’s table, although he mainly at standing up.
It was good that Kamilla didn’t seem to have strong preferences towards any one dish in particular, as there wasn’t really much here for her to eat, since everything was in the process of being prepared but not actually ready yet. Orin cursed internally, and took the plates with the treats from her. “Feel free to keep munching on those if you’d like. Give me a few chimes to get something else for you to eat.” He left her there, and tried to think hard about what he might prepare for her. The obvious choice was the chicken that he’d been planning to consume himself. His appetite was gone, though; lost along with his taste due to the hard knots of worry he could feel in his stomach. Wrapping his hands in cloth again, he opened the oven, standing back as a blast of superheated air washed over him. Then he slid the chicken out, pleased to see that its skin was a nice golden brown. He set it aside in its plate on a nearby counter to cool.
He considered what else he could give to her. Since he didn’t want to touch anything that Dolmar was preparing, that left him with seafood. Orin smiled, fire lighting in his stomach as he decided he’d give her his best work. He really wanted to impress her, perhaps being offended that she had shown such small reactions to him otherwise. It bothered him immensely that she wasn’t responsive and so he was determined to illicit something more than the small shifts in her facial features that she’d given him so far. Heading into the pantry, Orin grabbed a red wine sauce that he’d made last night, along with a salmon fillet. Thankfully this process would be sped up by all the prep work he’d been doing, as all he had to do was throw the salmon onto a frying pan for a bit and it would be ready.
Speaking of ready, the chicken should be safe to eat and Orin grasped its plate gingerly and transported it to Kamilla. He placed it down before her, smiling as best he could, although he was sure there was a bit of a deranged edge to it, as his passionate emotions were still running far too high. “This is a whole roasted chicken with lemon and rosemary. Don’t feel obligated to eat it all on your own.” Indeed, that would be quite a bit to ingest, and Orin wanted her to have room for the salmon as well.
He grabbed a fork and knife and two more plates, and set one before her and one on the opposite end of the table. One chicken dish, one seafood dish, and a dessert would probably satisfy her condition for only a few tastings, but Orin would see if he could wrangle more out of the agreement. “I’ll be back in a bit with another dish for you to try.” He figured he could finish off whatever she didn’t eat of it, although without his taste it would be a waste. While he wasn’t hungry, he knew he should eat something or else the stress might cause him to pass out or something equally embarrassing. For now, though, his nerves were taught and propelling him to keep moving. He greased a pan, then put the salmon on it and put it on a stove. It would be a few chimes before it was ready and so Orin shifted until he could watch Kamilla’s reaction to the latest food.