prompted by @rainys-shipsandcanons 💕
The restaurant is brightly lit, and decorated tastefully with touches of pink velvet and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.
“All it took was a 911 call to get us into this place,” Lucy sighs, adjusting her gear as she and Vivi weave through the tables of the restaurant.
“I know,” Vivi says, looking around as Lucy pushes open the doors to the kitchen. “Even wit’ all my connexions I couldn’t get us in!”
Lucy shakes her head a little as the large wooden door swings shut behind her.
“We’re here for Jamie Jameson?” she says, looking around the kitchen. “Responding to the 911 call.”
“Thank goodness,” a shorter woman with dark hair says, “She’s over here.”
A blonde is hunched over the stainless steel counter, a pile of bloody dishclothes sitting next to her. A woman with a dip-dyed blue braid is holding another rag to the blonde’s hand.
“Ah, the paramedics,” the blonde slurs, blinking her blue eyes very quickly. “Please help.”
“She’s lost a lot of blood,” the woman with the braid says, “We put the fingertip on ice.”
Vivi nods as she comes towards the blonde.
“Madame Jameson,” she says, before the blonde cuts her off.
“Chef Jameson,” the woman replies, swaying slightly, “This, like, is still my kitchen, y’know.”
“I understand,” Vivi says, reaching over to take the bloody hand and rag in her own gloved hands. “We’re going to put you in a wheelchair, and ‘elp you to the ambulance so we can get your fingertip attached where it should be.”
“S’long as I’m back for dinner service,” Jamie slurs, as Lucy sets up the wheelchair, setting it behind the tall blonde.
“She doesn’t handle blood very well,” the dark haired woman says, as Lucy helps the chef to sit. “At least, human blood. She’s a butcher chef by trade y’know.”
“I mean, this place does have a reputation for the barbecue,” Lucy says amiably, wrapping a blanket around the chef’s shoulders. “I hope we’ll have a chance to try it when this is all over!”
“Free barbecue!” Jamie says from the wheelchair, lifting her bloody hand in the air.
“Later,” Vivi says, wincing as she grabs the woman’s hand, wrapping the rag tightly around the fingers.
