Randal Ivory

You weren’t sure how you’d gotten here. Well, you knew how: Randal had invited you to dinner with his signature sweet, haunting smile, and as always, you couldn’t say no. But why you agreed to let him cook was another story entirely.

A faint smell of mushrooms and something earthy permeated the kitchen as you sat nervously on a rickety stool. Randal, wearing an apron that said Master Chef in black letters, hummed to himself. His movements were graceful but erratic, as if he were trying to follow a recipe he had invented on the spot.

Wondering how Luther allowed this?

“This is going to be amazing,” he said, his eyes shining with that haunting excitement as always as he fed you a medium-rare soup. "I saw it in an anime we watched together and wanted to make the recipe"