Hours. Hours and hours of inane conversation that was starting to grate on Daniela's nerves. It was entirely likely that she did it to herself. When one tried to focus on too much, and read deeper into the intent behind the words said, a headache was the best one could hope for. As it was, she was trying to resist the urge to spit fire on a few of them.

One of the cooks had gotten a girl pregnant and was looking for a second job fighting outside the city to support themselves. The prep cook at the opposing countertop commiserated, citing the costs of helping house his brother's growing family which lived in his parent's block. His friend told him there was a popular speakeasy to the west that was looking for musicians and bartenders, but was quite exclusive. The former, of course, needled him for an introduction. Another had signed a contract to travel with the next caravan set to leave for the cities to the north, even if his ride had been delayed by the storm. Several speculated on the ups and down of the ingredient market after the hurricane, particularly herbs and spices, since they would suffer immensely from the overwatering and gusting winds. The fae kitchen porter was particularly excited by that conversation, since they'd been breeding a bed of rosemary in their apartment block.

Whenever Jeb left his office, the cooks zipped their mouths so fast Daniela thought they were going to bite their tongues. The manager glanced at the warming ranges manned by one of the slimes, seemed to make a mental count of what had been produced, and nodded to the two chefs coordinating the meals. The staff all let out a sigh of relief when he turned to head back to his office. Before stepping back into the warehouse area, he turned to Daniela.

"Ms. Vega. Your insect friend is ahead of schedule, just like you all. If you all maintain the pace, you'll all be done before dinner proper. Considering how your work is going, I would love to try whatever you make," he said, nodding in her direction for a moment before disappearing through the swinging door.

The kitchen waited a beat before conversation roared back to the fore. The two head chefs congratulated her on the opportunity, while the three sous chefs bumped her shoulder as they moved about their section of the kitchen. The many station cooks expressed jealousy and excitement at the recognition, since praise of that sort was rare from Jeb.

For her part, Daniela didn't really know what to do with the man's message. Clearly it was positive, but suddenly she felt an undue amount of pressure to make sure what she made tasted heavenly. That was usually just the standard result, but she immediately started to overthink whether she should just make the simple steaks or something else!

"I can't punch this problem away," she grumbled.

"I'd say," a voice chimed through the comm-plant.

Jumping slightly, she checked her Implant notifications to confirm it was Devon who'd contacted her. She'd set her comm-plant settings to let through messages from a select few people --like the Bunker Busters-- unless she flipped a setting. She still hadn't thanked Ron for nudging the Entities to make that system more robust... even if he still sucked at answering people's calls.

"What happened?" she said, half focusing on the kitchen again; she'd let her wisps cool during her moment of surprise.

"Your boy Samuel found a hornet's nest and proceeded to kick it in the nards."

Daniela almost punched a hole in her hand instead of the olives. She would have, if her Strength Attribute and Convection Flesh Trait wasn't there to harden her skin. It took all of her self control not to blow up on Devon as the elf continued to regale her with the story of what Samuel and April had managed. Keynote amidst it was the operation to trickle poison the population of Ocala. The fact that Sam had managed to pull through didn't surprise her in the least, but she made sure to check he hadn't overextended. Which, of course, he had.

Devon had to employ every iota of charm and good will he had just to stop Daniela from abandoning the Taste of Old to check on her friend. Samuel, wise pain in her ass that he was, had anticipated her reaction and had left a message with Devon. Handwritten, even.

As discreetly as she could, Daniela mentioned that she would need to take a short break to regenerate her mana and vent the heat from her side effects. No one at the kitchen batted an eye, thanking her for her help so far and switched to the various bits of magic they had at their disposal to operate the stoves. It was... an embarrassing display really. While it took a different set of spell chain control to tend to the Artificial Slimes as far as she understood, it didn't mean the Fallen should have thrown out their regular Gifts out the window. Then again, to specialize meant to survive and the Ocalans had done more than well enough for themselves.

This and more crossed her mind as she stepped outside to 'vent'. Since she was at it, she did indeed inhale deeply and flexed her neck to flare her Fire Gills before breathing out through them. Instantly, her body cooled by several degrees and she sought out where Devon had perched while messaging her. He hung upside down from one of the posts holding up a nearby awning and the elf passed the message without another word.

'I'm good. Dealing with the two captives we found.

I'll bring them by the Embassy to keep an eye on them for the moment. Don't worry about me, and make sure you keep making us look good.

- Sam

1. Oh, and bring me something good! You know how ravenous healing leaves me! '

She crumpled up the piece of paper and turned it to cinder with a snap of her fingers. It was very 'Sam'. He'd managed to tell her what to do, reassure her and give her a reason to do the thing he'd reassured her about.

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"He knows me too well," Daniela grumbled.

"I think he knows everyone a bit too well. It's kind of spooky," Devon agreed.

"You just don't like that he can slap you out of the sky."

"No one should be able to move a plant that fast! It's unnatural," he complained, shaking his head when he saw the grin on her face. He'd fallen completely for her baiting, but at least she gave him a kiss; he considered it more than a worthwhile trade. "What's the plan?"

"Dinner," Daniela said, glancing back over her shoulder. She wasn't being literally timed, but the cooks knew their mana pools by feel. The time they had before they started wondering where she was wouldn't be far away. However, as much as Sam wanted her to stay out of things she knew she had to get involved. Sam could make things happen, but it was most obviously the safe route. Ron was much more like her in a way, but he was still entirely too sensible. No, the pot needed stirring and she was the perfect ladle for it. "Then I think we need to revive the Volstead Act."

"Huh?" Devon asked, tilting his head and letting his midnight black hair flop to the side.

Daniela patted him gently on the cheek. "Spend a bit more time with Dai. Not everything you learn has to be about the world after the Fall, Dev."

"Hey! I've been reading," he complained, crossing his arms. "But it's not like I could take his damn library out of Wildwood. That place is a damn fortress, especially after people started talking to him again."

"True, true," she said. "Sorry, I guess I'm a bit more prickly than usual."

"Wow. Who are you and what did you do with my girlfriend?" Devon said, widening his eyes from their semi-permanent squint to drive in his point. Of course, in response he took a punch to the gut that left him doubled over. It wasn't enough to leave permanent damage or steal his breath-- The Torch knew her power-- but it hurt.

"See if you can get us some less shitty clothes. If I can swing my plan we can't go looking like this," Daniela said, gesturing to herself in white scrub-adjacent clothes and the elf's cloaked and armored self. "I think Huck owed Ron some money. If not, find the Ponzio kid. He probably has connections he's not doing anything with."

"Maybe I should have stuck around Sam after all," Devon mumbled, spreading his arms to hoist himself into the air.

"And pick me up at seven!" Daniela called after him.

"I don't have a clock!" he called back.

She laughed, shaking her head and returning to the kitchen with renewed energy. Why had she been worried about a dish when there were bigger fish to fry?

-- + --

It took another two hours for Daniela to get everything in place. The key point revolved around information; primarily, the location of the speakeasy one of the cooks had mentioned. If you were planning to introduce people to booze that was laced with literal genetic mutating poison why wouldn't you also market it as something exclusive. Half the vodka she'd drunk on the surface tasted like just as much hogwash as what Ron's dad made with her father in a damn closet and up here they charged all kinds of prices for a shot.

So, she'd done a little dirty deed. Well, at least when it came to the creed of working a kitchen. She'd turned the man's heat down low enough that his latest batch of ground beef just kind of simmered in the metal instead of browning. That was the heat meant for later, when the sauce was added and the whole thing had to simmer covered for at least fifteen minutes. With his food not turning out how he was expecting, and the rest of those around him doing just fine, he didn't feel comfortable shouting over the many other conversations. He took a pause to approach her directly. Daniela had been more than prepared to walk up to him had he opted to shout, but the man was too considerate. Too bad for him.

The brunette apologized profusely, playing up her exhaustion after the stacked shifts the kitchen had been running. Really, she didn't need to ham it up much since she'd been working for almost ten hours at that point, but being high Leveled had its perks.

The poor draconian Fallen crumpled like a house of cards. She almost didn't need to bring up the bar as he apologized for bothering her for something she'd caused herself. Man, I didn't realize I could act this well. Maybe it would have worked on Mama... Nah, she'd have read me like a book. The only wrinkle to her plan was that the draconian didn't think they would let her in. You had to be invited. Unless you were staff, but they weren't looking for more station cooks since it was more of a booze snooze than a restaurant.

It didn't take her long to come up with a solution, even if she felt her mood sour.

"Hey Raul," she said, the moment she finished loading Anthony with the dinner meals the whole kitchen had been hard at work on.

"What do you want?" the man said, squinting.

"I'll shoot straight with you. I need your help to get into a semi-exclusive bar," Daniela said, reading an expression she was most familiar seeing on her own face than on others. He'd take no bull, so he was going to get the horns.

"And why would I help you do something like that, newbie?" Raul said, setting the glass he was polishing down with a sharp clack. "I am nice and comfortable here behind my own bar."

"True, but if you do this I'll throw you a bone and leave you out from being the butt of my jokes. Hell, I'll even step in with the others. How could they make fun of such a helpful person?"

"Man, I knew you were a rat but I didn't think you were this bold. What's stopping me from going to the boss and telling him how much of a handful you are."

"Your sense of preservation. I know your boss' boss' boss. You know, the old guy with all the swagger his mafia family earned him? Ah, see, you knew exactly who I was talking about! How convenient."

"You wouldn't bother Il Padre with this," he said quickly, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"Buddy, who do you think got me this gig? I've got mad cooking skills, but it wasn't like you all had openings advertised."

The orc paled, turning his dark olive skin more a shade of mint. The easy smile on Daniela's face turned just a tad more predatory. Gotcha. "So, what's it gonna be? We mend fences and you help me out or I start poking the bear until it chases us. Trust me, I'm faster."

"That doesn't even make sense," the orc whispered to himself, shaking his head before his whole body sagged. "Fine. Whatever in the four storms could you possibly want from me then?"

Daniela's glinting teeth sent a shiver up the bartender's spine.