Pinocchio Antiquariato

XI. Chef's Daily Recipes

Nicole came in, gently pulling the girl away from him and prying the blade off of her hands. "Careful with that dear! You might cut yourself!"

"There is not much to cut when it is all brass and rubber," said Joe, later placing a hand on his mouth. Slip of the tongue.

"Mr. Servan!" Nicole exclaimed, hands on her hips. "You shall address her by her proper name. And it is she not it!"

The chef rolled his eyes. Since when did the flirtatious fairy become so maternal?

"Would you be so kind as to leave me to my work, mademoiselle? As you can see," he lifted another pile of brassware and put them on the sink, "I am kind of busy at the moment."

"We just want snacks," the doll said. Joe raised a brow. He didn't know dolls could plea, and before yesterday's events, he didn't know they could talk either. Well, nothing should come as a surprise in the manor.

"There are none," he replied. Was it just him or was the doll staring at him like she wanted to destroy him?

"We want snacks," the doll repeated vehemently.

Nicole was beside the automaton in an instant. "Come now dear, we mustn't bother Mr. Servan with the dishes. We can fix ourselves a few delicious biscuits and some aromatic tea without his help. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

The doll nodded without looking away from the chef. Even behind his back, Joe could still feel the weight of her blue stare, piercing through his skin like a ridiculously sharp boning knife. Nonetheless he continued washing the dishes, furiously scrubbing at the grime and burn-marks outside the hulls.

Meanwhile he heard Nicole guide the doll around his kitchen. The nerve of her.

"Mr. Servan keeps a tinder box of biscuits somewhere in the pantry." Nicole told the automaton. He heard her lift the child with a loud 'oof', and he assumed she was helping her up on one of the high stools.

He felt Nicole rummaging through the shelves and pantries, scavenging for stocks of food that he might have hidden away. The chef smirked as rinsed the smallest pots and moved on to the larger cooking ware.

"Aha! Found it!" Nicole exclaimed, her excitement piercing through the chef's sensitive ears.

Joe groaned, accidentally braking the ladle he was rinsing. He was saving those biscuits for later.

"Do dollies even eat?" The chef grumbled as he moved on to rinsing another pan. Why in the seven hells did he cook so much food yesterday?

"Why were you wandering off on your own in the hallways, dear? Having trouble sleeping?" Nicole cupped her chin in thought. "Or do automatons need sleep at all? Like, how do you recharge?"

Now this was a question the chef had in mind since the day he laid eyes on the doll. He moved on to drying the brassware with a white cloth all while eavesdropping on the maid's and the doll's conversation.

The child fidgeted in her seat, letting platinum swirls fall over her shoulders. Joe noticed a rather repetitive habit of hers where she looked at her toes when she didn't seem to understand a question. He took the dried brassware and moved to the other side of the kitchen, over to the pantries and top shelves that contained all the cooking ware. Joe could still feel the doll's eyes on him.

How unnerving.

"I don't know," the doll answered. "Papa puts me to bed, but I do not know if that makes me sleep."

"Well, do you close your eyes when you lie down?"

"Yes."

"And do you feel rested when you do?"