Chapter Text
The kitchen's empty when she arrives. Just a sea of silver and aluminum, spotless from the night before. If Vander and culinary school taught her anything, it was be the first to arrive and the last to leave. Growing up she didn't see the merit in it. She never felt quite type-a enough for that shit. But here she is, the weight of the lesson like a stone in the pockets of her apron she ties around her body.
The dining room is empty, too. Odd. She looks down at her watch, the old thing displaying in thick black number 2:15 p.m. Dinner service starts at 6:30 and her restaurant is empty. Empty tables– also spotless.
"Oh shit."
The bartender comes up from under the bar, picking up remnants of some shattered glass. Not off to a great start.
"You know where the hell everyone else is?" she asks. Ezreal shrugs, tossing the glass shards into a separate bag.
"Couldn't tell ya. I saw some email from Jinx last night but I had uhh… something else come up," Ezreal says, sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck and its enough that Vi doesn't need to know more.
She takes a deep breath, going back to the kitchen and setting her knife bag down. It's obvious some prep work was done before it was abandoned. Shipments received and she can see Zeri's knife bag at her station. She shakes her head, swallowing back the frustration and knowing her crew would show up and show out.
There aren't many opportunities for Vi to actually interact with her customers. Every now and then, on those slower weekday nights, she would occasionally leave the confines of the kitchens to stroll through the aisles red velvet cushions and newly linen-topped tables. She would eye whether a particularly risky recipe hit its mark or she needed to trash the whole thing for next week's menu. It doesn't change much but Vi loves some sort of variety.
This place didn't come easy. It came wrapped in a grief she isn't sure she's recovered from. Inherited along with a debt she doesn't know how to pay. But The Last Drop turned La Descente Délicate is hers and her sister's, sitting just at the edge of Zaun. The River Pilt glistens not even a block away, still acting like a wall between the two cities.
It hasn't stopped Pilties from crossing the bridge, though. And it didn't stop the few of them, from coming down here when it was Vander's name attached to everything. But she supposes having gone to a piltie culinary school is the reason for that.
Chatter in the dining room gets her attention and she looks up through the porthole window. Some of the waitstaff come in through the front– she notes that too. She really doesn't like being a hardass.
She knows most of her waitstaff at this point. Most of them stayed even after Vander passed and she heard enough of them from Mylo over the years. She's heard more than she's wanted to– her brother incapable of not getting into a messy entanglement that Vi has to pretend she doesn't notice. As long as they do their jobs, she couldn't give a shit who Mylo fucks on the weekends. That's never been her business and she would rather step on nails than hear the details.
So she sticks to her skillets and the flame of the stove. She doesn't know how Vander ran this place. But the forced empathy she's been saddled with makes her laugh. All the late nights she was in charge of her sister and her brothers make a hell of a lot more sense now.
Taking the white bandana from her pocket, she ties it around her head, pushing the wild pink tresses back out of her face and tying the longer strands in knot. Rolling up the sleeves of her white shirt to her elbows, she turns the notch up on the stove in front of her, the stainless steel needing to heat before she does anything else. The back doors swing open and shut as more of her brigade finally files in. She makes a note to add tardiness to the meeting objectives she loathes giving. She hated them when she cooked under Vander and she thinks she hates them more now that she gives them.
"Ready for tonight?" Loris says in lieu of a greeting.
"More than your late ass," she counters, clapping her sous-chef on the shoulder. He barks a laugh while he adorns his apron.
Claggor files in next, giving her a sheepish smile that Vi levels with a raised brow. Yeah, she definitely needs to have a chat.
"Look, blame Jinx," Mylo calls, the front doors swinging shut behind him.
"For fucks sake," Vi growls, gesturing to his undone tie. "We open in half an hour. Don't think I won't fire your ass."
She only half means it.
Mylo sighs, doing a poor job of fixing it. "Do we really need to keep wearing these? I mean loved the man but Vander could have updated the dress code." A sudden bitterness clogs her throat and all she can do is point at the doors. He takes the cue, twirling on his heel with a wave of his hand.
"For real, though Jinx had us all out watching some Piltie play a piano."
Vi stops, her arms laden with oils. "What?"
"Yeah you might want to go talk to her since she works here now," Mylo says before the doors swing back closed. She whips her head around to Claggor, is met with a nod.
"She's good. Probably too good for the likes of here but," he trails off with a shrug. Vi sets the oil down, turning the stove off. She finds her sister at the hostess stand, normally long braids twisted into knots on her head.
"Oh, hey, sis," she says without looking up. Vi clears her throat, crossing her arms. Her sister finally looks up, raising her brow in question.
"I thought I told you to find a band, Pow," Vi says.
Jinx sits back on her stool and rolls her eyes. "Well the chick I found was better then anyone else who auditioned."
Vi tries not to scoff. "So much better that we need to hope we don't bore out patrons to death?"
"You can ask the boys, she really blew our socks off or whatever." Jinx says, going back to what Vi realizes is the schedule in front of her. Vi doesn't budge, opening her mouth to speak when Jinx continues. "And not to mention, we don't really have the pockets for a band. This Katie girl didn't even ask for half of what the others expected and if she sounded that good in Ekko's warehouse just imagine how she's gonna sound here!" She flails her hand, still not done. "So really you can call me a big fat hero!" She claps Vi's shoulder with a condescending affection only a younger sister is capable of. But her eyes soften just enough so Vi knows she means it when she says, "And trust me no one is gonna fall asleep into your so very perfect seafood gumbo or whatever." And she ruined it.
Vi runs a hand over her face. There isn't enough caffeine in the world to deal with this right now.
"Has she even eaten here before? Or heard of this place?" Vi doesn't know why the idea of topsiders coming here still baffles and grates her. Jinx levels her with her most are you really asking me that expression. But then she blows air out of her mouth with a long winded exhale.
"Beats me but she at least had to have seen the flyers I so lovingly crafted– and yes before you ask, the glittered ones," she says, mischief waggling her brows. Vi tips her head back, hands on her hips. Well, it's better then nothing she supposes. She turns on her heel without another word, huffing when Jinx calls out, "She starts tonight, by the way!" She can't help the small smirk at her sister's cackle when she holds up her middle finger.
The kitchen wafts the familiar scent of cayenne and paprika. Claggor's new char-grilled oysters have been a favorite, and Vi watches another tray be brought out. The doors swinging open and shut let the busy chatter filter in. But not only that—music.
It's been on Vi's to-do list for some time. She wanted something swampy or swanky to liven the dining room. That, or jazz. When Vander passed, the old band that used to play retired, or some members were too heartbroken to stay, traveling down to Bilgewater or the southern Isles. Vi can't blame them but using a speaker instead of live instruments felt like some sort of blasphemy.
Sweat lines her brow now as she preps the short rib, the knife steady and familiar in her hand. Steam and flames make the extra fans Tiff bought last week feel obsolete. The doors continue to swing back and forth as trays are brought in and out, bringing hums of the piano with it. Vi can barely hear anything besides the exhaust fan and the rock music coming from a speaker in the sauces section. But Vi's station is closer to the never ending cycle of the doors, eyes every now and then glancing up to look through the round door windows.
The piano sits closer than Vi remembers it being, but she can just make out the edges of the woman playing. Not even to discern a distinguishable detail, though what she hears in those faint traces gets her attention.
"What's got you smiling like that, Chef?"
Vi hadn't even noticed and her mouth immediately drops. "Dunno what you're talking about— pass that— yep, thanks." She takes the towel from Loris' hand. "I wasn't smiling," she says absently, sliding the meat into the oven to braise.
Loris leans his hip against the counter. "Mhm."
"Hey, I need those crab claws stat!" Mylo shouts through the open door.
"Gray, that's you, chef!" Vi calls.
"Yes, Chef!"
Whatever song that was being played ends, and a new one starts only a few moments later. Vi turns back to Loris with a tired huff. "The music's nice."
She watches Gray pass the tray to Mylo, who takes it with an exaggerated sigh before looking at Vi. "Told you she's good! Easy on the eyes too. Definitely topside, though."
Vi rolls her eyes, whatever good mood she'd been in flattening out. "My, the crab."
As if just remembering the tray on his shoulder and hand, he startles, opening the doors again.
The rest of the night flies by as it always does. And all the while, the woman at the piano plays endlessly. Vi finds herself on the verge of humming but sibling pride and stubbornness keeps her from doing it. Hands on her hips, she looks over her kitchen, sees a cluster of her staff in the what Jinx calls the gossip corner eating now that their shift is over.
Throughout the night, she'd only heard whispers of their new musician. All in passing, and all of them seeming more and more far fetched. Vi has yet to lay eyes on her, tonight not slow enough for her to leave the kitchen, but the image in her head probably doesn't match the woman outside.
Shit like "Piltie Princess" and "do you think she's a vampire?"
The only comment of interest was a vague indication that she clearly came from money. Topside money.
She cranks the stove again, preparing to make her and Jinx's favorite—a quick shrimp étouffée—when she stops. She bites the inside of her cheek as the last note reaches her ears.
She catches Celilia's eye, gesturing for her pastry chef to come over.
"Yes, Chef?"
"Is the pianist still here?"
It's a stupid question. She just finished playing for the probably two or three stragglers at the bar. She looks over at the digital clock on the far wall. 12:05. That can't be right. Was she playing for—
"I believe so. That girl has barely taken a break from what Ezreal said."
"Huh."
She looks over the ingredients and sighs through her nose. "Has she eaten?"
Cecilia takes off her apron as she says, "I sent her a bread pudding a few hours ago. Said she likes dessert before dinner usually."
That gets an unexpected chuckle out of Vi. "Got it. Have a good rest of your night." Vi waves her off, and mentally calculates new measurements.
Tripling everything, she gets to making the rice and melts the butter in the pan after chopping the veggies. She wipes her eyes with her arm–the fucking onion. She could never get rid of that response.
"Geez, sis, you know I won't eat all of that, right?" Jinx says when she makes her way into the kitchen. "You on your period or something?" She plops herself on the counter.
"Pow, off the counter while the stove's on."
"Ugh, yes, mom." She pulls up a stool, slumping into it.
Vi adds flour and the creole, stirring with far less of a rush now. She looks up at the clock again, hopes this isn't all in vain. The rest of the waitstaff filter in and out, wrapping silverware in their linen napkins after they ran through the wash.
"Didn't see a critic tonight," Jinx says as Vi pours the beef broth into the pan. It sizzles loudly, steam kissing the ceiling. Vi grinds her molars. "But everyone likes the music," she snickers.
Vi rolls her eyes, stirring. "She's good from what I could hear." The heat must be getting to her because her heart beats a little faster in her chest.
"Saw her eyeballing the food, too," she adds, putting an elbow on the counter. Vi just hums.
"Well, if she's still here, I'll make her a bowl," Vi says. She swallows thickly, always a sucker at the idea of a pretty woman eating her food. Though she also hopes she sounds casual, that her sister didn't notice the slight fumble she made when reaching for the shrimp.
Jinx doesn't answer but for a slight amused scoff at first. "I think she's at the bar."
Vi hums again. "Grab those bowls for me."
Jinx swings off the stool with another exaggerated huff. "I worked all day and you're gonna make me grab bowls," she mutters the tease. Vi doesn't comment on the third bowl nor does she comment on Vi's meticulous plating of said third bowl.
Why she does what she does next, she has no idea. But she finds a scrap piece of paper, takes a pen from her apron, and presses the tip down. What the fuck is she thinking? But her fingers move anyways.
Welcome to the Drop! On the house Thanks for the music
She scratches out the last line, feeling silly for thanking her for doing what she's being paid to do. She huffs at herself, tapping the pen against the counter. She hears her sister eating with gusto, humming her satisfaction. She tries again after taking a bite of her own bowl—just to taste it for herself before sending it out.
You play beautifully
"Fucking hells," she mutters. They need more powerful fans in this damn place. She stares down at the wrinkled paper, stumped. She looks at her sister, kicking the bar stool. "Hey, what's her name again?"
"Who?" Jinx answers with her mouth full. Vi raises a brow in her best really? look. Her sister swallows, spoon already dipping back into the rice. "Uhh, Kate I think? I don't know, I don't remember."
"You hired her for me and you don't remember her name?"
"Well, why would I?"
Vi sighs through her nose. She'll just avoid using it and this will be the last time she does this. But then she recalls what Cecilia told her—that their new musician apparently has a sweet tooth. She tries her best to black out the words above before she starts, again.
Welcome to the Drop! On the house, Cupcake.
She folds the note before she can think better of it and looks up at her sister. "Will you take this to her?" She gestures toward the still steaming bowl.
Jinx looks up from her bowl, eyes narrowed. "Why can't you take it to her?"
Vi bites back the frustrated noise in her throat. "Do you wanna clean this up?" she asks with a raised brow.
Jinx groans. "Fine." She takes the bowl, nearly crumpling the note and clomps toward the doors. She pushes one but then looks over her shoulder, giving Vi a smirk that means trouble. "She's definitely your type by the way," she says, followed by a cackle when Vi scowls.
She lets herself eat for a moment, pretending she doesn't feel nervous. She serves new customers all the time. Some topside musician Vi's never even laid eyes on shouldn't matter.
It doesn't matter. Not one bit.
She finishes her bowl, waving to some of her staff as they continue to pile out for the night. Almost elbow deep in suds, she doesn't look up when her sister comes waltzing back into the kitchen with a completely empty bowl.
Shaking her hands of excess soapy water, Vi takes it. Satisfaction warms her chest.
"She left this for you before she left." Jinx tosses the thin paper on the counter with an eye roll.
"Did she say anything else?" Vi asks, again hoping she sounds nonchalant.
Jinx hums, feigning thoughtfulness. "Said she'd loooove to go out with you sometime."
Vi huffs, flicking water at her face.
"Ew, Vi, what the fuck?" She wipes the dirty dishwater from her cheeks, gagging. Vi finishes with the dishes she used to cook for herself, Jinx, and… Cupcake, and dries her hands off. "Now you'll never know what she actually said," she says, sticking her tongue out.
"Just tell me if she liked it," Vi grumbles.
"I think the basically licked clean empty bowl should be a good indicator, fat hands," she says, throwing a towel at Vi's head.
Before Vi can rebut, the back door heaves open. Her sister lights up, and mutters, "Oh, thank fuck."
Ekko strolls in, meeting Jinx in the middle. She swipes a to-go container of her dinner Vi didn't even notice her box up on her way over. Vi nearly gags at their greeting, shouting her sisterly duty, "No PDA in my kitchen, please!"
Jinx cackles. "See you tomorrow! And Vi, please let the cleaning staff do their job."
Vi would argue but her sister has a point. All of her joints ache and she's been staving off a headache for the past three hours. She rolls her knives in her bag, takes her apron off, and almost forgets to grab the little note.
She unfolds it, sees her own writing. Her heart sinks and embarrassment punches her in the gut before she sees blue ink under it. She huffs, reading it too many times to be normal. She folds it back up, and puts it in her pocket. And for the first time in a while, she leaves with a little smile on her face, the words burning in her pocket the entire walk home.
Thank you for such a wonderful meal, Chef. It's an honor to work here Your reputation precedes you, truly. No wonder you've been the talk of the town. Bur please call me Caitlyn -Caitlyn