Accentuate the Accent

Ashes, Ashes...

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) - YOOOOO, okay so I fell asleep while writing this, haha, most of it was illegible TRASH, so I scrapped it and now um... This. Seriously, thank you for being understanding. <3 <3 - ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

It'd been a while since you spoke to Ampora. It wasn't because you chose not to, rather, your schedule insisted you work on making pastries and breakfast sandwiches. You silently cursed Wednesday's. They were a blessing and a curse in disguise. Whenever new scheduling was put up on the board by the recipes, you almost never expected the change of position. 

Perhaps this was because of your outburst two days ago. With a sigh, you turned your visor so the bill was against the back of your head, and you rolled up your sleeves. Two dozen chocolate creme donuts, coming up.

Surely enough, in roughly (more or less) an hour's time, the donuts were ready for display, and delivery. After washing your hands and preparing for a new batch of croissants, Charles called for you. Groan. You could not have groaned harder. It was like being called by someone after just finding that comfortable spot on your bed. You made sure to close and locked the ovens so they could cycle in a heat.

"Yeah, old man?" You nudged open the door to keep your hands clean.

"I'm giving you two one-hour breaks today," You gaped. "Hope you don't mind the overtime." Well... Those were the hours you'd appreciate. But that meant so much more than you originally had to do! You bit your lip and sighed thinly.

"I'll let you know after my first one hour break," He smiled as you did and batted you from his office with a roll of papers. I hope those aren't our checks. "I don't mind it, Charles."

"You're a good worker; just keep your temper lower than the ovens, alright?" You walked from his office door with a snarky smile. As if.

More product, more displays, better placement, easier orders. By your first break - in which precious little Shelly took over - you'd noticed the shop was dead. Maybe two or three regulars with their laptops and large coffees sat at the far booths relaxing. Mich was dawdling about, picking up empty straw rappers and the like from empty tables. You nodded. You approved of this slowness. You poured yourself a coffee, heavy on sugar and cream, and mixed in some Irish Cream.

You don't know what the Irish did to this cream but it was a blessing. You breathed deeply of the thick, aromatic smell and went to the break room out back. It wasn't that cold today; comfortable for a late October afternoon.

All was well, and nothing seemed to matter until a loud crack came from inside the shop. Screaming. It's all that registered as you tried to gently place your coffee cup down, and end up knocking it over as you rush inside. Smoke, musty and intoxicating, you ducked to your knees.

"Get out, everyone out! Mich, call it!" Mich was frantically trying to bat out the smoke from an oven with its door open. 

Holy balls... This... Your phone was out in a flash, your apron falling back to the soot ridden floor. You called for it and begged them to hurry. "This can't be happening...?"

Surely enough, everyone was evacuated and the fire was calmed. The only one who wasn't was you.

"No one listened to me! A klutz! She nearly killed everyone! D-dear god, I'm!!" You shook in the fire-proof blanket they gave you. Nothing was wrong but your nerves. Everything shook and fell and rose and you just hated how she was sobbing up to Charles, apologizing over and over again. Stupid! You felt you could cry too, but being the bigger person, you opted to hide your face in the blanket.