Fucking Solway wasn’t home.

Hans had run all the way up the fucking stairs, and knocked on the door, and no bastard had answered him.

Where the fuck were they?

It may have been then he noticed, having stopped and stood still for approximately two seconds and looked over the railing into the carpark below, that the bloody Discovery wasn’t in it’s parking bay.

Of course it wasn’t, The tools were off doing their “exploring” bullshit. Well then. He hoped they’d get bogged or something and call him and say, “Come and get us Hans, we need your help.”.

They likely wouldn’t though because they seemed to have gotten better at their four-wheel-driving crap and didn’t need him anymore.

Fuck it.

He looked at his phone. He had two hours until he had to go to work, so fuck that too, he was going now. He didn’t have anything better to do, so rocking up early to work on a Sunday was, you know, the most exciting thing he’d be doing all day.

For reasons unknown, because who knew, he ran back down the stairs, leapt into the sporty little silver car and backed out of the complex in a very exciting way because it was highly likely this would be the most exciting thing he’d do all day.

He’d take the freeway there.

The volume on the radio got hiked up so he could headbang if he wanted to, and he left a couple of blackies on the road. That might sufficiently fuck off Solway’s neighbours.

Freeway traffic was virtually non-existent so Hans turned up at the restaurant quite quickly, chucking a whippy into the parking lot. The patrons sitting by the big bay window at the front of the building stared out at him as he got out of the car. He waved.

A couple of them waved back, which made him crack a grin.

‘At least I know how to make an entrance,’ he muttered as he strode towards the door.

He opened it, grinned at everyone again, and tried not to stomp the rest of the way through the restaurant.

‘Where’s Fennel,’ he said to one of the wait staff as if he didn’t know. Of course he knew where fucking Fennel was. Then he noticed there was only one waiter,

‘Where’s the other guy,’ he asked Gretal.

‘I … Um… Hans?’

‘What.’ He checked himself in the mirror behind her.

‘You turned up quite…’ Her voice dropped to a whisper as he turned to look at her.

‘Quite what, Gretal?’

‘Never mind.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I think Pieder is in the kitchen at the moment.’

‘Okay, good. Just as long as you’re both here.’

She looked slightly confused. ‘Alright? Did you want me to get him for… okay no,’ she said to his back as he grumped his way down to the kitchen.

‘Fennel,’ he announced as he walked into the shining spectacularly clean cooking space.

The Canerican was at the sink, he noticed. What the fuck did she have on her feet?

‘Fennel?’ Oh, look at that, the man was right in front of him.

‘You’re early,’ said Fennel calmly. ‘What’s up?’

‘Since when did we allow high heels in the kitchen?’

‘Well then.’ Fennel leaned back against the stainless steel bench. ‘I’ll let her tell you that.’

The Canerican seemed to be having quite an animated, and far too friendly, discussion with the waiter. What was his name again?

‘Pieder.’

The man’s head whipped around like he’d been caught in a disturbing act, which in Hans humble opinion, he had.

‘Hans?’

Hans decided saying anything else would not be conducive to a nice conversation. He didn’t even bother folding his arms. Pieder’s eyes widened, he threw down the tea towel he’d been holding, and scuttled away like the spider he likely was.

The Canerican turned around. ‘Hello,’ she said brightly.

‘Outside. Now.’

‘Here we go,’ muttered Fennel. ‘Let’s not lose another staff member Hans. Hans?’

Hans had already left the building.

He stared at the skip bin for at least five minutes before she came out the door.

‘This is my third free day,’ she reminded him.

‘Yeah. About that.’ He looked at her shoes.

‘I’m wearing pants. I’ve got a long-sleeved white dress shirt on. I’ve got my hair in one of your stupid nets and under this damn cap. What is it?’

‘What do you call those?’ He looked pointedly at her shoes again and shook his head.

‘My shoes?’

‘Yes,’ he growled. ‘Do you think they’re safe in a kitchen?’

‘I don’t think you can talk to me like that.’ She almost sounded like she was asking a question.

‘Yet look at me go. Don’t you have anything sensible in your wardrobe?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Everything I’ve seen you in is… nevermind. Could you go home and get some decent work shoes on?’

‘I don’t need to put up with this.’

He was quite surprised she hadn’t threatened to sue him yet. Instead, she seemed to be approaching quite quickly, and oh look here she was standing under his nose, and it definitely looked like if he said another word she’d flick him on it, and he didn’t think he really wanted that to happen.

He glared down at her. ‘Can you please change your shoes?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve got nothing else to wear.’

Why the fuck hadn’t she run away screaming yet? That’s what any other sensible person would do. He growled again.

She snarled.

What the fuck? ‘Listen, lady.’

‘I don’t think I will.’

‘Huh?’

‘Why don’t you listen.’

He scowled. ‘You’re being extremely unprofessional, and you’ve really got an attitude problem.’

‘I have done everything in my power to make you happy. I’m doing everything I’m supposed to do.’

‘Have you?’ Why the hell was she talking like this meant something to him?

‘How would you know. You haven’t even been here.’

He shook his head. ‘Listen. This isn’t working out. You’re not suitable for this kind of work.

‘I’m doing my best.’

‘You’re not. Not really.’ That was when he lost his temper. ‘I mean, come on, how dumb do you have to be, thinking you can wear heels in a kitchen?’

‘Fine then. I quit.’ She started to walk off.

‘That would probably be best.’ He folded his arms.

‘She stopped and leaned down. He waited. What the fuck was she doing now?

One high-heeled shoe hit him in the chest.

‘Start running lady, You’ve really pushed your luck,’ he said.

‘Fuck you, asshole. Here, you can have this one too.’ The other shoe missed his head by at least a metre. He wondered if she even knew what a metre was. ‘I’m going.’

The back door slammed. Hans wondered if she’d locked it. He wasn’t waiting to find out. He picked up the pair of ridiculous shoes and stormed around the side of the building, once again letting himself in the front door.

The patrons seemed to be enjoying themselves. A few more people waved at him as he walked past. His answering grin was likely even less genuine than it had been the first time. Gretal tried not to look at him as he steamed past her. God, he was making a fool of himself. He looked at himself in the mirror. He was still a hotty, and hadn’t started growing big teeth or a tail. That was a bonus. Someone banged into his chest.

It was her.

‘Here.’ He held out the shoes.

‘Where the hell did you come from,’ she demanded.

‘Magic,’ he said dryly. ‘Speaking of shoes, I have a pair of boots in the car.’

‘Good for you.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’ Her eyes really looked quite green in this light.

‘I am trying to fix this situation by offering you a pair of shoes suitable enough for this work environment.’ He sighed. He seemed to be calming down quite quickly, which surprised him somewhat.

‘I don’t need your fucking boots.’

‘Listen.’ He held up his hands. ‘I am giving you an opportunity for reasons I do not understand. Seriously…’

Her eyes narrowed.

‘Okay, whatever. Do you need this job?’

‘Yes.’ All of a sudden her eyes started to glisten.

Do not fucking cry on me, he thought. The last thing I need is some crazy Canerican crying on me.

‘Then let me get you my boots. Wear them, and you can go back and work in the kitchen.’

‘What if I don’t want to work for you?’

‘You aren’t making much sense. You want to work, yet you don’t want to work for me. You know what? That’s fine, because you won’t be. We are looking for a restaurant manager, and as soon as we find one, I won’t be here anymore.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘So, there’s that.’

‘Are you quitting?’ She looked surprised.

He laughed dryly. ‘Is that what you want? Well, I’m not. Not exactly. But, I won’t be here. Do you want me to get you my boots or not?’

‘Won’t they be too big for me?’

‘Yes, they will.’ He restrained himself from adding the obvious. ‘But they’ll have to do for today, won’t they. Think you can manage?’

‘I’m still angry.’

He raised his hands. ‘Fair enough. Take ten minutes or whatever, and come and see me. I’m going to give myself a timeout in my car.’

The woman had the nerve to giggle then. He didn’t know what was so amusing.

‘That’s actually quite homest of you,’ she said.

‘Yeah it’s a little too honest to be hones–.’ He cut himself off. ‘Anyway, that’s what I’m doing, so if you still want the job, come and see me, and I’ll give you my boots, okay?’ Why the hell was he letting this person back in? And, why the hell was he loaning her his boots?

He must have lost his mind.

‘Ten minutes?’ she queried.

‘Longer, if you want. I’ll wait.’

‘Okay.’

——-

It was approximately ten point five minutes when she sauntered over to his car. It did take her a while to figure out which one was his, and he quite enjoyed watching her stare vacantly around the carpark.

She stuck her head down to look through the window and he turned down the music.

‘Is this your car?’ She eyed the interior.

He took a deep breath. ‘No. I stole it. Yes, it’s mine. Give us a sec.’ He grabbed the boots from the passenger seat floor. ‘Did you want to get out of the way please?’

‘Oh. Sorry.’ She stepped back. He looked down at her shoes and shook his head.

‘I’ve got some extra socks. You might need them.’ He got out and passed her his boots.

She looked at them, a weird little frown on her face. ‘Are these yours?’

He sighed again. It was really fucking hard not to snap at this woman. ‘Yes.’

‘Oh, it’s just that they seem a bit, rather, oh I don’t know.’

Hans clenched his teeth.

‘You just don’t seem to be the country type,’ she continued.

He nodded slowly. He did not know how he was restraining himself. At all. ‘Okay then. Well.’ He tried not to start pacing and really tried not to kick something. ‘I know what. Why don’t you try them on?’

‘Here?’ She looked around the carpark.

He took a deep breath. ‘You can try them on wherever you like. Okay?’

‘Do you mind if I try them on inside?

‘Sure.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets and clenched his fists. ‘I think I’ll stay out here a bit longer.’

‘Thank you,’ she said and wobbled in those ridiculous heels back towards the retaurant.

He stalked three times around the car for no reason at all then got back in and turned on the ignition. ‘Solway,’ he said.

Finally, she answered. ‘Little brother. What’s up?’

‘I think I’m going to destroy something, and I need to work. Are you home yet?’

‘We just pulled in the driveway.’

‘Come here for dinner.’

‘Where are you?’

He told her the restaurant’s name.

‘Oh nice, that’s close.’

‘You in?’

‘I don’t even need to ask Bart, he’s nodding already. We’ll be there at six.’ There was a slight pause. ‘You’re paying, right?’

He chuckled. ‘Yes, I’m paying. I might not sit with you for too long because, you know, I’m working, but if it isn’t too busy, we can talk.’

‘Sounds good. We’ll see you then.’

to be continued…