Prompt Writing #9

Prompt [veiledinspiration]:

"I’ve had the dish ten or twelve times, but this time it tasted sort of funny."

Randomly Selected Story and Character: Dead Man's Hand, Helen

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I'm eating, I'm eating!" Helen shoved a forkful of rice and General Tso's chicken into her mouth. "Gaw."

Her brother tightened his lips and checked the front door again. No one hovering outside. No one coming in, either, not without triggering the chiming bells tied to the inside handle. Inside the buffet, it was just them and the usual staff. Two-o-clock wasn't the busiest hour after all.

Helen paused in her chewing, squinting at her plate of food. She swallowed and said—something that was lost to Chinese shouts from the kitchen area.

"What?" Adrian frowned, rapping his knuckles against the table until he realised he was doing it.

Helen sighed into her straw, one bubble of Coca-Cola popping under her nose. "Nothing, nothing. I'll keep eating, don't worry." She swallowed another bite of chicken and rice. "It just tastes a little different today. Maybe not as many peppers or something." She used her fork to flick one aforementioned pepper away from her next bite.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Her brother grabbed her wrist. "Stop."

Glaring, she sniffed. "One or the other would have worked. Gaw, you're so bossy."

"Bossy? I—" He trailed off into grunts between gritted teeth before shaking his head. "Helen, there are people trying to kill you. Don't eat food that tastes funny!"

She rolled her eyes. "It's not that funny. I promise if I taste poison I'll stop." She shook her wrist out of his grip. "Besides, you're the one that decided this place was safe."

As he eyed a worker girl restocking the crab rangoon, Adrian steepled his fingers in front of his nose and let out a tense breath. "Well, that was a few minutes ago. What you're telling me now is that it might not be that safe."

"No, what I'm telling you now is—Augh!" She slammed her fork down. "Fine, I'll just starve! Let's get out of here." Pushing herself up with her palms, she stood.

"Helen—Helen!" Her brother leaped after her as she charged for the door. "We haven't even paid."

She snorted, snaking around one of the steaming buffet lines. "I'm not paying them if they're trying to poison me."

"At least—"

He cut off as the worker girl charged for his sister. Swearing, he put his hand to his gun as yellow light glinted off a knife in the Asian woman's hands. Before he could get a good shot, Helen screamed, grabbing a plate or two off the stack and slamming it onto her attacker's head. With a porcelain crash, shards slammed into the sneeze guards as the worker staggered back. Adrian took his chance and fired. The woman with the knife stumbled backward from the impact and hit the floor.

 Panting, Helen pulled a lock of hair out of her mouth and looked at her brother. "You still want to pay them?"

"Nope." Stashing his gun, he grabbed her wrist and ran for the door before any shouting from the kitchen could come closer.