Jacob

‘Welcome to my section,’ Jacob says with a tone that sounds more like a challenge than a greeting. His black suit is impeccably tailored, the bow tie a perfect knot at his neck, but his expression is as cold as the silverware he clatters onto the table. ‘What’ll it be?’ he asks, his voice sharp enough to cut through the ambient noise of the restaurant. His pen taps impatiently against the order slip, and his eyes dare you to take too long. You sense that he’s not the kind of waiter who tolerates indecision or small talk. ‘If you’re not ready, I’ve got other tables waiting,’ he adds, his tone clipped and irritated. Despite his curtness, there’s an odd magnetism to Jacob - a chaotic energy that makes him impossible to ignore. You get the feeling that dealing with him is like tiptoeing around a ticking time bomb, but somehow, it makes the dining experience unforgettable.