---Venice's Perspective----
"Can I ask if…you can leave us be?" Paul said while gazing towards Fleur, who was shocked by the aftermath of my destructive behaviour. My mind loafed heavily unto the distant past, being reminded of the terror that had happened to my precious family. I was sunk on my knees, petrified from the memories that were unbearable for me to swallow upon reminiscing the life that I had taken for granted.
"I understand" With that being said, Fleur turned around and soon walked away.
I kept hugging my knees as if it was my pillow attached in my body.
Paul continuously caresses my head and offered me his hand.
"Let's cook some meal." He said.
I gave him a timid nod and was soon escorted back inside the hotel and led me straight towards the kitchen's floor.
"I'll be right back" He puts his cigar down and went straight towards the utensils in place. We were the only once left inside the dining room, but the dim lights flickering upwards was enough to enlighten the dull atmosphere.
"I'm not hungry" I claimed, still hugging myself from the horrific insights of my brain. The tears in my eyes have yet to flow by, but the nauseous characteristics engulfed by my head had pushed me aback deeper in a corner.
Paul's determined outlook had lessened my worries and was enough to keep me at bay. He would occasionally check on me, from time to time, as he carefully prepares the abrupt meal.
It took him about 30 minutes to cook a surprisingly aromatic dish.
My anxieties had also been ceased by the rich flavoured scent brought by the phantom mist traveling in the air.
The odour itself was enough to make me famished and watery. The freshly cut meat being soaked in warm butter foamed its way, greatly enhances the sweet juicy texture of the meat. Paul then combines the butter, parsley, garlic, lemon zest, thyme, rosemary, basil, salt, pepper, and cayenne pepper in a medium bowl. He then transfers the mixture to a parchment paper; shape into a log. Afterward, he rolls the parchment and twists its end, closing it, and transferred it to a powerful refrigerator. The next thing he did was preheating the oven to broil and place an oven-proof skillet on the stove. Using the paper towels, he pats the sides of the steak for it to be dried and drizzles it with the use of the olive oil; season with salt and pepper, to taste. He then removes the skillet from the oven and heated it over medium-high heat. Later on, he places the steak in the middle of the skillet and cooked it 'til a dark crust could be formed, roughly for a minute. Using the tongs, he flips and cooks for an additional 60 seconds for a more palatable plate. Eventually, he places the skillet into the oven and cooked it again until the desired doneness has been reached, for about 4-5 minutes, medium-rare, and flipped it once more.
Soon after, he walked outside from the kitchen's door, with a steak on his hand bathed with compound butter.
The dense aromatic flavour of the sauce wrapping the meat had turned the whole room into a sacred place filled with merry and excitement. The texture of the brown-reddish, tender, cooked flesh was the most appealing cuisine I've seen in my entire life; amidst the dangers, from the zombies, right now. I could still feel the sizzling touch of the ingredients used to produce the perfect steak with the melted garlic butter.
I was caught by Paul, drooling, on the nosh he had made.
"For you" He stated with dignity and elegance similar to a waiter, as he places the round plate parallel to me and offered a knife and fork for me to use.
"I didn't know you could cook?" I asked, seemingly baffled on the hidden prowess of my captain.
"I had a rough start. I ain't old for nothing" He said, and soon sparks up a cigar on his mouth and distanced away from my personal space.
"You're not gonna eat with me?" I tilt my head and flared him a smile. After all, he was the rightful chef who created this wonderful meal.
"Hmm, alright" He places the lit cigar on the ground and stomped the embers caught in its ashes. Following suit, he finds a comfortable space and sat on my fore and grabbed his pair of utensils.
"Let's dig in?" I announced. I couldn't wait any longer and munched out hastily on the meat, as I took my share.
The mixture of spices from the rib-eye steak kept touching my taste buds in an edacious manner. Even the faint salt, combined with the lemon, garlic, pepper, and butter swam its way on the surfaces of my esophagus.
"Woah, there. Slow down, will you?"
"I can't! This is so damn tasty!"
I cried. I wouldn't want to end this frivolous meal prepared by the finest cook in town.
"When I was a young lad, people would call me the 'legendary cook', back in the old city. My father, who was a carpenter, couldn't get a knack from the dishes I had made. He was a good guy. My parents both gave me the decision to either be a cook or a soldier. And, here I am, holding out my favourite gun, protecting my people. The dish I'd made was my father's favourite meal, which he ate before his last breath."
His voice was immediately cut after taking a small bite from the cube-like meat. He began chewing moderately the fine food he had broil, and later on, stared silently at the last fragments of the steak.
"Sorry" I apologetically said and soon hurriedly gave out the bits of meat scattered on my plate.
"No, it's fine. But, Veronica…" He murmured, as he took out a small photograph from his pocket and slid it on the table
"This is a photo took by a reliable informant of the United Nation. They saw Andrew and Claire paired up inside a glamorous laboratory in Hong Kong"
"What?"
I couldn't believe what I've just heard. My family, whose presence is unknown, was coincidentally living in the special administrative region of Hong Kong.
"Your family may still be alive. I…I was rude for forcing you to stay here in Auckland, having to worry about your personal affairs and your mission as a soldier. Fortunately for us, the government's officials have declared to assault the said laboratory and locate the remnants and information about Andrew and Claire. You're free to go with Fleur, and I will come and join your battle."
Paul sternly gazed into my eyes, waiting for my response. I laid down my skewered meat and took a long deep breath, hoping to calm down.
"I…" the tears from my eyes flowed utmost than the words that I ought to say.
"I… I'm grateful for this, Paul. Thank you" My mouth had finally claimed the sentence tapped inside, and eventually left the negative emotions in my heart.
"Likewise," He said, as he stood up and went his way on the fridge and took one of the finest wines New Zealand could offer.
"Cheers"
"Cheers"
Thus, we both clunk our glass's filled with wine washing away our emotionless strive.
------Fleur's Perspective---
"So that's what happened"
Venice explained the story behind their abrupt affix with the voyage. They were assigned to head forth towards Hong Kong and investigate the two scientists.
"Who's going to lead the army there in the Wharf? Venice might be okay, but aren't you the General of the infantry?" I said, tilting my head while shifting my gaze between Paul and Venice themselves.
"Already took it beforehand" Venice proudly exclaims, as she pumps out her plumped chest with a sneer right on her face.
"I assigned two veterans to be the temporary core commander in the army," Paul said, whilst blowing off the steam from his half-blazed cigarette.
"As for myself, I handed down the responsibilities to my vice-captain," Veronica said with a bewitching smile.
"Is that even alright to transfer your positions to a…you know, not that—"
"'temporary transferred'"
I retorted but was soon corrected by Paul
"Oh, I see"
All I could care about is Veronica being here with us. We do not know what's in store for in the ship nor the districts of Hong Kong, but Paul joining our group would greatly increase our chances of survival and also our morale as a team; and hey, we might visit the famous amusement park, am I right?
With that being said…
"All set?" Trevor, at the pilot seat, yelled from the top of his lungs to check us out.
"Aye!" Clinton replied and wiggles his way in his comfortable seat, staring gallantly at the picture of Pura in his hand.
As the wind blades of the chopper howl from the screeching breeze, a new adventure awaits our fortunate survival