Taste of Iron

Six: One Man's Trouble Is Another's Business Opportunity

Six: One Man's Trouble Is Another's Business Opportunity

"Hi? Hi!?" Atlas raised his voice, undoubtedly furious at the man who seemed utterly clueless about the severity of his actions. "What are you doing here, Emil? How did you even find me?"

"I'm not stalking you, if that's what you're worried about," Emil clarified with a slight frown. "I may be a criminal but I'm not that kind of a guy. I do know my boundaries."

"Boun— You broke into my home!" Atlas exclaimed, in disbelief of Emil's audacity to talk about boundaries when he had already invaded all of his the moment he stepped inside his apartment. "You threatened to kill me if I called the police! And now you show up where I work? What the hell do you want from me?"

"I wouldn't have actually shot you," Emil mumbled, folding his arms in front of his chest as he looked at the young chef. Atlas took off his hat, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Huh, he looks cute even when he's pissed. His cheeks are all red and flustered and his—

"I'm going to ask you one last time what you're doing here, Emil," Atlas repeated, his voice eerily calm this time. So much so that even the crime boss had chills. "It's one thing to— to break into my house. Not like that was okay either but fine. Whatever. But showing up here...this is how I pay for the roof over my head. How I survive. I'm not going to let you threaten that too. It may be some sick, twisted game for you but it's my livelihood at stake here. There's no way I'll allow you to fuck with that."

"That wasn't my intention," Emil spoke softly. He was beginning to feel guilty, and also sad that Atlas assumed he was there to bully the chef again. "I swear on Fried Rice that I was just here to eat with my friends and then I saw you and...and I just had to make sure whether it really was you or not. I'm not here to threaten your job or play games at all. I know I haven't exactly given you any reason to trust me but...I really am saying the truth."

"You swear on...fried rice?"

"Fried Rice. My cat," Emil stated. Atlas stared at the man, his expression completely blank as he parted his lips to speak something, before closing them again as he couldn't comprehend what to say.

"You named your cat Fried Rice?" Atlas asked.

Emil nodded eagerly, taking his phone out of his pocket to show Atlas his lockscreen, which was a picture of his jet black cat sleeping with a penguin soft toy. She was adorable, and a complete opposite compared to Emil's golden retriever personality.

"But...why? Why Fried Rice out of all the names in the world?"

"I found her in a dumpster outside of a Chinese restaurant. She was trying to eat from a fried rice container," Emil explained. "She was just a kitten back then. The smallest little thing ever."

"That's... actually kind of cute," Atlas whispered. Emil smiled brightly at the compliment, making the chef look at him weirdly. "So you're really not stalking me? And seeing me here was just a coincidence?"

"Yep! My friends even thought that I was hallucinating when I said that I saw you through the kitchen door window!" Emil said. Atlas frowned once again, scratching the top of his head in bewilderment.

"You told your friends about me?"

"Of course, I had to tell them where I spent the night," Emil stated. "Don't worry, they're all totally chill. Do you want to meet them? I'm sure you will get along! Especially with Esteban. He's kind of like you, quiet and reserved but really smart and witty at the same time. He mostly speaks in Spanish though. Do you know Spanish? Oh, didn't you say you moved here six months ago? Where are you from originally? Did you—"