[[Here we combine one of my favourite games and my favourite Pixar movie, both set in France.

Spoilers: For RT and Ratatouille.

Set: After both the game and the movie.]]

Waiting Game

Raphael considered himself a patient person. He'd been waiting nearly four years (and counting) for his father to come home. As an elusive art thief, he was used to waiting for the right moment to break into museums and galleries. Whenever Marie performed, he always held on till the end of the show to meet her.

Right now, though, he was going to die if they had to wait any longer. He, Marie and Fondue had been standing in this queue for hours, even after booking their reservation a week in advance.

For a newly opened bistro, 'La Ratatouille' was extremely popular. It was run by the great Auguste Gusteau's son, Alfredo Linguini, and funded by the infamous food critic, Anton Ego. However, rumor had it that their top chef was a rat. You would think that would be enough to drive any customers away. Au contraire, true food lovers were even more intrigued, citing Gusteau's motto: 'Anyone can cook'.

Raphael had never met the chef in person, but he'd visited Gusteau's restaurant with his dad when he was younger. How ironic that Gusteau's had closed due to a rat infestation and now Linguini's bistro was apparently booming thanks to a rat.

Raphael didn't mind if the food was cooked by a rat… Could they just pick up the pace?

All Raphael wanted was to enjoy a meal with Marie… and his dog, Fondue, if they managed to smuggle him into the bistro.

"Marie," Raphael murmured, "can you tell them who you are? They might give us VIP passes."

"Woeuf!" Fondue agreed.

"I can't do that," Marie whispered back. "It's not like I'm royalty…"

"You're the Duchess's daughter. That's close enough."

"No. That's not fair on everyone else who's waiting."

Raphael pouted, looking around. His eyes widened at a sign in the bistro's window: 'Waiters wanted'. At the entrance, there was a line of wannabe waiters dressed in smart black attire. That was their ticket inside.

"I've got an idea." Raphael led Marie away from the queue of grumbling customers and towards the army of waiters.

Marie protested, "We can't just jump the queue." Some of the customers were giving them dirty looks.

"We're not— listen, they're hiring waiters here. I can apply and it means we can eat earlier." He needed a job anyway.

"That's… that's brilliant, actually," Marie admitted. "But are you sure you want to work here? It's quite a fancy place…"

"Of course! I look the part, don't I?" He adjusted the sleeves of his dark tux. "And I have prior experience in waiting." He chuckled at his own pun.

The two of them were allowed to enter (Fondue hid behind Marie's dress skirt), but Raphael was dragged away before he could join Marie at a table.

"You're, er, here for the waiter's trial, aren't you?" a lanky man with ginger hair checked.

It took Raphael a beat to realize Alfredo Linguini was talking to him. He'd expected Gusteau's son to have more of a presence. (Then again, Raphael seemed pretty plain when he wasn't disguised as Phantom R.)

"If you could just follow me, please." Linguini guided him to the back of the bistro with the rest of the applicants. Raphael surveyed his competitors; they were all straight-faced, snooty and proud as a pack of emperor penguins. He had to be the youngest applicant here, and probably the least experienced…

Across the room, Marie caught his eye and gave him a cheery wave. Raphael gulped.

The only one who appeared as nervous as him was Linguini. "Um, hi, everyone. Thanks for turning up today. Sorry about the wait, haha…"

Raphael humored him with an awkward smile. The other applicants stared in stone-cold silence.

"Anyway," Linguini continued, "I bet you're all eager to begin the trial. However, it might be a little different from what you're expecting—"

A female applicant raised her hand. "Pardon me, Monsieur Linguini, but if you're here, then who is in the kitchen?" The applicants glanced curiously at the kitchen doors.

"U-uh, that would be my partner, Colette! She works in the kitchen all by herself while I wait on people out here. But as the restaurant— I mean, the bistro, has gotten so busy, I could use some help." He lifted a finger. "Alright. Back to the trial at hand. You'll each be writing down orders while I time you. The fastest waiter— or waitress, wins!"

Raphael smirked. That didn't sound too difficult!

"There's a catch, though…" Linguini passed them each a pair of roller skates. "You'll be wearing these."

Oh, no. Raphael was already having flashbacks of being chased by the Paris Roller Skate Brigade. He was the last one to finish putting on his skates. Great start, Raphael.

It was cool. What did it matter if the skates hindered his movements and cramped his style? He could totally do this.

Linguini also handed everyone a small notebook and a pen before starting his stopwatch. "…You can go now."

Raphael skidded over to Marie's table, grabbing the back of her seat for balance. "W-what can I get you, Mademoiselle?"

Marie giggled. "I'll have your world-renowned ratatouille, please—" There was a whine from beneath the table. "—And my companion will have the cheese fondue."

As Raphael jotted down their meals, Marie plucked a red rose from the table's vase and pinned it to his tuxedo. "For luck."

"Thanks, Marie." He needed all the luck he could get.

Carefully, he made his way to the next table, and the next, until his notebook was filled with orders. He would have visited more tables if a gaunt man with a beret hadn't requested a bottle of wine. When Raphael asked which wine he would like, the man unhelpfully answered, "Surprise me."

"Time's nearly up," Linguini called.

"I'll be back in one sec'," Raphael told the man. He burst through the kitchen doors.

"What are you doing in here?" a brown-haired woman demanded. She must have been the chef, Colette. (No wonder Linguini was so tense.)

"There… there's this guy— a customer," Raphael stumbled. "He asked for some wine."

Colette pointed a steak knife in the direction of the wine rack. "Grab it and get out."

Raphael studied the different wines, wondering which one the man would prefer.

"Are you done yet—?" Colette gasped.

Raphael glanced up. A bottle of red wine was rolling towards him across the countertop nearest him. "Leave," Colette hissed, grabbing Raphael by the arm. But it was too late. Raphael saw a pink nose poke up from behind the bottle, followed by a pair of bright eyes, pink ears and a furry grey body. It was a rat wearing a tiny toque.

A grin spread across Raphael's face. "Is it true?" he cried. "Are you really a chef here—?"

Colette slapped a hand over his mouth. She glared at the rat. "Now what are we going to do?" The rat pointed to a metal storage cupboard. "We are not locking him up. Remember how well that worked with Skinner and the health inspector?" The rat shrugged. Colette huffed and released Raphael, though she kept her knife aimed at him.

Raphael quipped, "Are you worried I'm gonna rat you guys out?" The rodent let out a dismayed squeak. Raphael assured them, "Because I would never do that. I swear." He knew all about keeping secrets. He smiled at the little chef. The rat wrinkled his nose and nudged the wine bottle towards him.

Colette raised an eyebrow at the rodent. "You trust him?" The rat bobbed its head. Colette sighed. She turned to Raphael. "If you breathe a word about this to anyone, you will never work in a restaurant again."

Raphael nodded quickly, scooped up the wine bottle and zipped to the doors. He flashed the rat a grin. "Thanks. My friends and I are big fans of your food—"

"I'm going to count to three before I throw this thing at your head," Colette warned.

"See ya!"

By the time Raphael got out of the kitchen, the waiters' trial had already ended.

"D-did you just... why were you in there?" Linguini stammered as Raphael skated past him. Raphael poured the man his wine before joining the other applicants.

"Ok," Linguini said in a hurried voice. "I've taken down all of your times and the customers' opinions. I'll let you know if you're successful. Don't call us, we'll you. Bye!" He dashed into the kitchen, yelling for Colette.

The applicants shrugged to each other and dispersed.

Well, that was a disaster. Sighing, Raphael finally took his seat next to Marie. He was surprised to see her food hadn't arrived yet.

"It sounds like there's a problem in the kitchen," Marie said. "But it doesn't matter. At least we can eat together now."

A hungry Fondue begged to differ. "Hrrrn..."

Raphael groaned. "After what just happened, I'll be lucky if I'm allowed to step foot in here again—"

The kitchen doors flew open. Colette stormed out, scanning the room until she found Raphael. "There he is."

Linguini approached Raphael and asked if he could follow them to the kitchen.

"Go on," Marie urged.

Raphael trailed after Linguini. "So, uh, does this mean I got the job?" He cowered under Colette's gaze, as did Linguini.

Linguini twiddled his fingers. "Not exactly—"

"If I may intervene...?" The man with the beret entered the kitchen.

Colette grumbled, "Anton, this isn't the best time—"

"Nonsense. I just wanted to thank this young man for bringing me my favorite wine: Château Mouton Rothschild." He smiled at Raphael. "Excellent choice, especially considering you were working on the clock."

"Uh— you're welcome," Raphael replied. "But I had a little help..." He glanced at the countertop as the rat popped up again.

"H-heavens above! How did that get in here?" Linguini dropped a saucepan over the rat. "L-let me just take this outside—"

"Give it up," Colette said dryly. "He knows."

Anton's spread his arms out. "Well, there's only one solution. You'll have to hire the boy so you can keep an eye on him."

There was a small tap from inside the saucepan. Raphael lifted the pan up and the rat scurried out. He held out his hand. "What do say, chef? Am I hired?"

The rat shook his finger.

"That settles it then!" Linguini laughed. "You start waiting today- erm, can I get your name?"

"Raphael."

"Raphael, welcome to La Ratatouille."

Colette cut in, "Why are you two standing around when you should be delivering these orders?" She chucked Raphael an apron and two dishes: Cheese Fondue and Ratatouille.

Raphael gave the rat a thumbs-up before he rushed out to Marie and Fondue.