Chapter Text
- It’s certainly not the best performance we’ve seen from this team.
- Yep, they are all over the place, and they just can’t seem to get themselves where they need to be fast enough.
- The pressure is definitely on and they are certainly feeling it now.
- You wouldn’t know it though looking at Shane Hollander.
- Nope, as ever, the strongest link on this team.
- He really is on fire tonight. He is everywhere!
- He has to be with that kind of back up, it begs the question, where is everybody else?
-I think Hollander is asking himself the same thing.
- Oh, what’s happened there, Hollander does not look happy.
- Something has ruffled his feathers that’s for sure.
- What is he waiting for?
- It definitely seems like he's looking for somebody in particular.
- Well, I think we all know who.
“Rozanov!”
“Eughh what now Hollander?”
“Where is the food for table 24?”
“What?”
“Food. Table 24.”
Rozanov is in the middle of plating up an entire parties worth of food, Shane knows objectively it’s probably not a good time, but then Rozanov says,
“I don’t know what you are talking about, I have no ticket for table 24."
“What. Yes, you do, I sent it a half hour ago." Shane grips the counter and leans forward, “Hey, listen to me.”
Rozanov looks up at him impassively, “Sorry, no ticket, no food." He turns for a second to grab a pan of sauce from one of the line cooks.
Shane’s stomach drops. “No way, that’s not possible. I sent it.” Shane digs into his apron, starts panic flipping through his order pad, “I know that I did."
The corners of Rozanovs mouth start to turn up a little bit, Shane catches it and pauses his searching.
“You’re fucking with me,” He says flatly.
“No, no is very serious. Oh wait, yes, I just found it, is right fucking here with hundred other tickets I have right now,” Rozanov waves his hands wildly at the order rail.
Shane takes a deep breath and counts to five in his head.
“Well how long, they’re getting restless?”
“Will be ready when is ready Hollander, you must wait like everyone else.”
“An estimate,” Shane grits out.
“Soon, is ready soon. Now go away from my kitchen or I put it in garbage. Service!”
Shane moves out of the way as another waiter comes to collect the finished plates on the pass.
“If they ask me how long it will be, I’m sending them back here to speak to you,” Shane says, and backs away to leave.
“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” Rozanov calls after him.
Shane shakes his head, huffing a laugh and looks at Rozanov, eyes full of fire. “Try me."