“I must admit, miss Wong. I am taking quite a risk before you, at the moment.” July at Arklay was always stuffy. The main kitchen downstairs could be unbearable at times, but luckily, it was late and it was only the two of them, with Ada settled on one of the counters, while Albert carried on with his preparations for the meal.
There were always plenty of supplies in the kitchens but he had brought his own for the occasion; showing up with several grocery bags in his arms, earlier that day.
One of the older researchers had commented with a huff that Wesker was always strange about food. One day, many years ago, he started making his own meals and never deigned to join the rest of the facility at the dining room, again.
“I have never had the pleasure of cooking this particular dish, before.” He admitted, although he cut through the beef fillets with great precision, creating immaculately proportioned thick slices. The wine mixing with the sauces created a rich, pleasant scent that quickly filled the room, earning a curious hum from the cook, who seemed rather taken by the process.
Once the beef was generously coated in the sauce mix and refrigerated to marinate as requested by the recipe book that he looked at every so often, with great diligence, he offered his companion to step outside for a smoke, while they waited.
It was a little cooler outside. The dark forest seemingly engulfing their world stood still and silent. Moths buzzed under a single lit bulb over their heads and toads croaked at the nearby fountain.
There was not much to say between them, at least, not where they stood now. It was rare for him to return to Arklay these days and it still felt strange to do so without his lifelong partner in crime. But, duty called, on occasion, and at times, he saw it fit to indulge his own whims, as he tended to his duties.
He didn’t know what Ada was thinking. He had no intention of asking. He was certain his less than subtle colleagues had already exhausted the young woman with their ever-important opinions; whether in ignorant attempts to engage her in conversation or attempting to test her intelligence.
Regardless, words were of no comfort to people like them. But, scarcely anyone could resist a good meal. Especially, when there was a lot on one’s mind.
As the wok was about to start smoking over the fire, he added the marinated beef to the generously oiled pan. He delicately tended to the meat, ensuring it was evenly cooked and tender, before removing it off the fire, cleaning the wok, and reheating it with fresh oil, while he prepared the vegetables. Green onions, ginger, and garlic, mixed with noodles were evenly coated and fried in the remaining sauce, before being served on a platter alongside the beef and with a glass of chilled red wine for each of them.
Albert took a bite of his most recent creation before returning to cleaning the counter he had used to prepare the meal, humming thoughtfully.
“Not bad, if I do say so myself.” He declared quite proudly, before momentarily scrunching his nose. “For my first attempt, perhaps?”
The dish was far from perfect. He had followed the instructions but the meat hadn’t soaked in the marinade long enough and the onions had been over cooked, as his timing had been off with controlling the heat of the burner.
“To a decent enough meal in bearable company, then, miss Wong?” Wesker lifted his glass, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he looked to his companion.
TIMELINE : 1998, RACCOON CITY, THE SPENCER MANSION .
bearable company is a stretch at best, a tightly wound strand of DNA about to snap at the slightest tug—there's been a lot of those recently, something to do with an eager supply of cocaine flown in once a month to fuel the research. ada hasn't yet partaken, she's already fidgeting with the lighter & the cigarette in her hand. every single breathing moment is wading through gas & she's felt like a lit fuse ever since she saw the mansion slide into view like a lost monolith atop the arklay mountains.
hidden, like the many secrets she was tasked with retrieving, in the oppressive woodland at the furthest point from every population center. she doubts it's purposeful, the biohazardous overspill they dump into the creek surely flows into raccoon city's main water supply, & it's another detail she thinks of as a struck match.
she sees fire before she sees smoke, she draws from the cigarette a little too long & forgets to exhale, causing her to cough out the self-administered poison like a teenager taking her first sample. a rebellious youth wanting to see what all the fuss is about, why she's spent one too many nights working the wok while her mother covered the kitchen in smog. she thought her lungs had already acclimatized to her mother's habits, but setting her lungs alight was a wholly disconcerting feeling, as was the relief that followed.
a similar sense of reprieve hits her now, not just because of her overreliance on nicotine but because for the first time in a long while, ada doesn't have to perform. she doesn't know what albert wesker's game is exactly, why he's put on a chef's apron & decided to treat her to his best approximation of chow mein, but it's not entirely unwelcome. of course, the food could be poisoned & this is just a formality to get her guard down, but she's been keeping a close eye on every step of the cooking process. both for the sake of authenticity & because she's grown very suspicious of every pleasantry thrown her way.
every male coworker who's tried to approach her with a smile wants to study her for any suspected genetic differences between the races, it's an often discussed theory as to why she's so servile in her role as an assistant researcher when they think she isn't in earshot. even john, who isn't shy about his romantic inclinations, has an obsession with the novelty of having a chinese woman on staff. something about the best geneticists often coming from japan instead, the reason for which seems to elude him.
she doesn't expect him to pick up a history textbook, scientists treat the humanities like a vampire might garlic, even with the extensive library on the mansion's second floor.
albert wesker, for his part, is another man on the inside, it's the main reason ada wong isn't john clemens' china doll at the moment, but the agent who's debased herself enough to play into the stereotype. “ quite the risk, i thought they had you play the cops down in the city. ” she speaks with a noticeably more lax accent, somewhere between hong kong & the rest of the english speaking world, rather than the mockery she's put on to appear more foreign. they here isn't a broad enough descriptor, while ada knows this job came through shen ya, they weren't the only pharmaceutical company with a hand in the pot. all of umbrella's rivals want a piece of the pie, & they're willing to put aside their competition for a shot at the same military contract umbrella's getting.
where wesker fits into all this, who is signing his checks, she doesn't know.
“ they still have that photo of you with the former staff down in the lab. must've been before they recruited you. ” her eyes squint in interest, she wants to know if she's hot or cold, guessing the history of a man who meets her gaze with a pair of sunglasses.
ada rolls some noodles with a fork before striking a piece of beef, ready to judge the meal, but she gets lost in the familiarity of the flavor. that's how they get her to comply, by dangling the promise of going home like bait off a fishing hook, & she just chews on the far too stringy beef instead of hurting wesker's ego.
“ i'm surprised you managed to find a wok, people here still practice the chinese exclusion act. it's a miracle they let me walk the premises. ”
