codesbreak.
on one hand, dj could say he’s proud of himself for keeping from grimacing — but he’s also eaten a lot worse than this. either way, he swallows, keeping his expression neutral. and, as if he hasn’t heard a single word gabriel has said:
“ just don’t use s-s-ssso much salt next time, eh ? ”
he’s not so cocksure and insufferable that he’ll cluck his tongue and toss in a patronizing smile, but gabe’s eyebrows do hit his hairline, which should serve well enough as a reminder that he is a world famous goddamn chef. widely celebrated. not to be critiqued on a dish-in-progress.
as he’s taste testing it now, however, he begins to deflate like a days-old party balloon. it’s unsalvageable. shit.
‘ and you. ’ he dumps what remains without tearing his angry gaze from dj. ‘ don’t touch my shit next time. ’
