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>>No direct interactions, other than him contending with confused feelings and thoughts by himself, mentioning Vika [@PrinceAlexus] in the process.
[hr]

Ryan was wiping down his dining room counter, reserved for those who wanted the full 'omakase' experience of having their dinner be based completely on the whims of the chef. Today, it would have been an assortment of fresh sushi including fatty tuna, yellowtail that would receive a light torching then dressed with a semi-sweet soy based sauce, mackerel marinaded in a light vinegar-based dressing, scallops with a tiny grating of fresh wasabi, sweet shrimp, and finished with a delectable [i]tamagoyaki[/i]. Of course, matcha or warm sake would be served should the customer request something other than water. No beers, no matter their quality. Ryan found that the taste of beer malts and hops often overpowered the delicate sweetness of fish.

His staff had retired for the evening. As it was customary for them to leave after they tidy up after the last set of customers has been satisfied. Ryan alone would remain behind and complete the final cleaning and tallying of the day. Ryan often took this time to think about the menu for the next day, to take account of inventory, and to clean/sharpen his tools. He would lock the doors, then put on headphones, drowning out whatever noise that might filter through his windows and also his own mind. It was a sort of stress reliever for him. After a night of intense cooking and meticulous attention to detail, Ryan needs it. Ryan had made himself a mug of matcha, and he would take small sips from it time to time. Mainly, he shuffled around the empty kitchen, going from tallying and closing out all tickets, then to taking stock, then finally turning his attention to his tools.

Of course, he was thinking about how he replied to Vika the morning after the drunken kiss. 

It has been a couple of days and it is now Saturday night, around 11 pm. Ryan sighed and glanced at his phone. The words he sent kept creeping into his mind.

[color=6ecff6]"Sure. We can talk whenever you're free. The kiss... Hopefully I... I mean. Hopefully that made my intentions clear. Inebriated or not. I just want you to know that alcohol had nothing to do with my motives behind the kiss.

- Ryan"[/color]

The soft grinding and sound of friction resonated from his knives. The whetstone was being put through the ringer. A chef who can't keep his knives sharp isn't worth a damn, Ryan always thought. Of course, given the nature of Ryan's restaurant, dull knives mean poorly prepared fish. He would rather die than to mutilate the bounties the seas have given him. Thus, he takes time every evening to make sure his knives are sharp, and are well maintained. 

Tucking his knives away in a large lacquered box that is lined with red felt, he clicked the case closed before taking the final sip from his mug and rinsed it out. Placing the mug on his workbench, he grabbed his phone and took a final lap around, to make sure there was no trash or scrapes left over. He enjoys the feeling of returning to work the next day to an already clean environment. He would clean the restaurant again before they opened for service of course, but it was just nice to walk in in the morning to a clean space.

Satisfied with what he saw, or didn't see, Ryan went back into the kitchen to grab his knife case and exited through the back delivery door. Locking it behind him, he walked over to his Vespa and clipped the knife case to the front where his legs would go as well. Grabbing his helmet, he started the vehicle and started his ride home. 

The night breeze ruffled his light dress shirt. Tugging at his light windbreaker, he clicked through a few songs before getting going.

The thought remained. [i]What or how would Vika respond.....[/i]