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Sangre was on his break, having a chance to check over the food supplies and make sure nothing was low on stock. As he heard steps, he looked back, seeing Akira but instantly knew something was wrong. Very wrong.
Ignoring what he wrote, Sangre went over to him and frowned, bending his knees a bit to get to a closer eye level with him. “Akira, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” he asked with a hint of worry as he checked over any exposed skin on the servants body. When he saw that nothing was physically wrong, he softly put his hand on Akira’s back, pushing him in a gentle manner into the kitchen more so they could talk with some privacy.
“What happened?” The chef asked once again while taking the plates from him to place into the sink.
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"Why is it that, as a culture, we are more comfortable seeing two men holding guns than holding hands?"
~Ernest Gaines
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