Warning: Contains forced cannibalism
The atmosphere in La Gueule de Saturne was thick with a palpable tension, a silence that pressed down on Rody like a heavy weight. He sat stiffly at one of the tables, the candlelight flickering softly, casting eerie shadows on the restaurant's polished walls. There was something off, something sinister lurking beneath the surface. Vincent, as always, moved silently, his presence almost ghostly as he emerged from the kitchen. In his hands, he carried a plate, its contents concealed beneath a gleaming silver cloche.
Rody's mouth felt dry as Vincent approached, his gaze locked onto Rody with an intensity that made his skin crawl. He had never been able to read Vincent-his boss was always an enigma, his true thoughts hidden behind those dark, impenetrable eyes. But tonight, there was something different, something unhinged in the way Vincent looked at him.
Vincent placed the plate before Rody, his movements precise, almost reverent. He lifted the cloche, revealing the dish-a perfectly grilled hanger steak, its juices glistening under the soft light. The smell was intoxicating, a rich, savory aroma that made Rody's stomach twist with a confusing mix of hunger and nausea.
"A special creation," Vincent murmured, his voice low and intimate, as if sharing a secret meant only for the two of them. "I've put a lot of effort in this dish. For you, Rody."
Rody managed a weak smile, trying to ignore the unease coiling in his gut. He picked up his fork and knife, cutting into the steak with slow, deliberate movements. The meat was tender, practically melting under the blade. When he brought the first bite to his mouth, the flavor exploded across his tongue-rich, succulent, with a strange, almost metallic undertone that he couldn't place.
It was good-almost too good. But there was something else there, something that didn't belong. He forced the bite down, suppressing the urge to gag as the taste lingered on his palate, heavy and oppressive.
"It's... different," Rody said carefully, struggling to find the right words. His voice wavered slightly, betraying the growing dread that was building inside him.
Vincent's eyes narrowed, the faintest flicker of disappointment crossing his face before it was replaced by something colder. "Different how?" he asked, his tone deceptively calm, though there was an edge to it that made Rody's heart skip a beat.
Rody hesitated, his mind racing for an answer that wouldn't set Vincent off. "It's just... not what I expected," he admitted, choosing his words cautiously. "I'm not sure it's for me."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Vincent stared at him, his gaze intense, almost predatory. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he stepped back, his expression unreadable.
"I see," Vincent said softly, though there was no warmth in his voice. He stood there for a moment, simply watching Rody, as if weighing something in his mind. "Perhaps I misjudged your tastes."
Rody opened his mouth to respond, to say something-anything-to diffuse the tension, but Vincent spoke again before he could.
"Come to my apartment tonight," Vincent said, his voice a low murmur. "I have something special planned for you."
Rody's heart skipped a beat, a cold sweat breaking out along his brow. There was something in Vincent's tone that left no room for refusal, something that made Rody's blood run cold. He nodded, forcing another strained smile.
"Sure, Vince," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll be there."
---
Vincent's apartment was as pristine and meticulously arranged as Rody had expected, but tonight, the atmosphere was oppressive, the air thick with an undercurrent of something dark and dangerous. Rody sat uneasily at the small dining table, his eyes drawn to the kitchen where Vincent was already at work, his back turned as he prepared something out of sight.
