“What do you want?”“What’s that?” Donal asks.Denise opens her eyes, suddenly aware she had spoken out loud. It had slipped out as a long war... breath she had been holding.She turns and leans back against the desk, black stocking clad legs crossed at the feet, arms folded. She peers at Donal over the point of her nose. “What,” she speaks deliberately as she removes her glasses, “do you want?”Donal is uncharacteristically taken aback, frozen with his hands in his pockets. His eyes twitch and. He noticed that she didn't keep them bound in the traditional style. He smiled as he thought that he wouldn't like to have his own chest wrapped in cloth, or to wear a corset that crushed his body. She appeared to be a little non-traditional in a traditional way. He smiled at the thought.As the others were serving their plates he asked his first question, "Why do you want to be my cook?" He noticed that she looked him in the eye and wrung her hands in front of her. "Ah, well sir, I need the job. More

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