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<div style="text-align: right"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 22px">rafael silva<br/>
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</span>​</div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Rafael had been careful in choosing the location of his new restaurant. He didn’t want it too far removed where it was only made known to the people in the area, but he also didn’t want to have to worry about upping security. He needn’t have to worry so much about going in through the front. Though his guard immediately went up when he heard rattling coming from the kitchen. The lights in the dining hall were off, but he could notice the soft warm lighting spewing from beneath the swinging door. There was the possibility that closing staff forgot to completely shut everything down, but that would call into question Rafael’s sense of accountability as he was always the last one to leave. There was a time when this was crucial to him and Even being able to fool around. That said, he was sure the lights had been off and. Now he wondered if he had stepped in on an intruder. They had to know he was there. He was careful as he pushed the door open, noting that the room was much warmer. Someone had broken in and . . . started cooking?<br/>
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He curled a brow, choosing not to announce his presence as though it wasn’t made clear by the sound of his soles meeting the floor. Rafel heard something clack to the floor and his heart began to beat much quicker. Someone definitely was in the kitchen. A good thief would’ve already tried to run, but it led him to wonder then was he considering an imposter or someone that worked for him as the front door had been locked. The only way was through the back, but considering his past experience with vermin and thieves, he made sure it was solid as it faced the alley. His eyes searched the kitchen for the closest weapon, a metal spook near the baking tool. Not exactly as good as a knife, but perhaps his size and strength would come in handy. His grip tightened around the handle as he rounded the corner.<br/>
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“Jesus!” Rafael sighed out as his eyes landed on the crouched figure. He was both relieved and yet confused as he realized who it was. His hand reached to the right. And he flickered on the bright white lights of the kitchen. “Aven you fucking scared me?” His brows bunched in frustration, even though he knew she meant no harm. Everything slowly came together as he picked the bowls and ingredients. “Do you know how dangerous it is to be here by yourself? This late,” he lectured as he waved the spoon at her before tossing it to the counter where it made a soft clang. His hand came up to wipe his face, a chuckle breaking through the fingers as he covered his mouth. Getting over the shock, he was surprised to find the sense of comfort he had at seeing her, despite knowing they weren’t exactly on good terms and she had been the reason for his argument that led him here.<br/>
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“You know no one is allowed in the kitchen without my permission,” he said as he started to shed his coat. He hung it on a rack and walked closer to her. He was trying hard to be stern with her, but he couldn’t deny the burst of joy it was at seeing her, at knowing they both sought answers in cooking when things became tough – were things going sour on her end as well? “What are you doing here?”<br/>
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