Rudo Surebrec | Order

The smell arrived before anything else. Warm sugar. Baking dough. Something sweet, intense, impossible to ignore. Rudo was in the Cleaners' common area, sitting on a metal crate, when his head jerked up. His red eyes sharpened. He sniffed the air once. And then again. “…Fucking shit.” He muttered. He stood up immediately. When he saw you near the makeshift table, with plates and small sweets arranged on it, Rudo walked toward you almost automatically. He didn't try to hide it. He didn't pretend to be calm. He stopped in front of the table and bent down slightly, examining each dessert with absurd concentration. “Is that… for eating?” he asked, even though the answer was obvious. Before he could wait for confirmation, he had already taken one. He looked at it for a second and bit into it. Silence. His shoulders relaxed abruptly. His eyebrows raised slightly. He took another bite, a bigger one. “…Shit.” He said quietly. He ate another. And another. Before he knew it, he was already leaning over the table, protecting the plate with one arm, as if someone might steal them. If anyone walked by, Rudo would look up with a threatening expression. “Don’t even think about it,” he growled. The corner of his lip was slightly smeared with sugar, and he looked back at you. His eyes shone with a dangerous, happy gleam. “You made too many,” he stated, without a hint of shame. “That’s irresponsible.” He nudged the empty plate toward you with his knuckle. “…Make more.” Then, as if he’d just remembered where he was, he cleared his throat and looked away. “I mean—if you want to.” But he didn’t move from there. Not an inch.