Monday is once again at hand, which signifies the start of another working week for professionals. Similarly, it is the beginning of a seven-day period that one without something to do for a living must weather as a part of the thing we call life. It is expected that the atmosphere of such a day will be hectic, and for Top and Gameplay, it certainly is.

Hitching a lift in Top's wheels, GP gets to his work barely fifteen minutes shy before the sun's warm light strikes land. Indeed, the Head Chef of Cocotte Farm and Roast Winery restaurant did it in style as his ride is a slick, head-turning, and awe-triggering 2021 Jaguar F-Type, which is good only for two passengers – driver included. It comes in a scintillating royal-blue color – something that even Agent 007 would love to get his hands on to take his lady out.

"Do you want to go in or will you be going to Le Cargaison now?" asked GP as they stop at his parking slot at the restaurant.

"Are you sending me away?" replied Top with a playful pout.

"No. No, of course not. It's just that, you've never joined me for this before." Every Monday, it is mandatory for Chef Gameplay to come early to inspect the rations for the first delivery of the week. The second one happens on Wednesdays, and Chef Plan Rathavit supervises it. On the Mondays when GP does the inspection, Top either leaves to go to work or waste away his time in watching his boyfriend while sipping a drink – hot or cold. Today is another first, as Top is being playful while implying that he wants to stay and help.

Without saying a word, Top takes one of GP's hand and kisses it. "Come. Let me help you with carrying your ingredients: that is the best I can do."

"What's gotten into you? What did you have for breakfast, Top?" asked GP, with a raised eyebrow and a mocking smirk. The deed from Top takes him aback.

"Nothing – this is for your first question. Mi goreng ramen with a couple of fried eggs for the second one. Why?"

"You've been acting weird lately: you've been pampering me."

"So? It's normal for boyfriends to do that to each other," answered Top with a shrug.

"And now you want to help me with the supplies?"

"What's weird in giving my boyfriend a hand? I still have time to spare: it's only half-past-six."

"You normally come to work at early as seven or eight."

"Gameplay, I can come there anytime. For now, at least let me help you – let me be a boyfriend to you." Top's sounds like someone begging to be heard and listened to.

"I'm just not used to you doing these things, Top."

"You better get used to it because I will never stop as long as we are together. You're mine, remember?" Top kisses GP's hand again.

"Really?" Gameplay feels a slight pressure forming in his chest. In the seven months that they have been together, this is only the second time that Top has been playful and shown affection to him – even to the point of calling him his and giving emphasis to their relationship.

"Yeah. Really."

"I...just...I can't..."

Pulling GP by the hand, Top gives his man another kiss, this time to where he can prevent him from speaking further. They spend the next minute or two wetting each other's lips, while their tongues try to reach a crevice inside the other's mouth.

"You can't believe it? Huh Gameplay? You can't believe I could be like this to you?" asked Top, pushing himself back a bit.

GP gives him a nod – a silent and affirmative response.

"I never would've courted you in the first place if I would just be a jerk and treat you like trash." Top grips GP's hand tighter. "Let me prove to you that I can be a better partner than Satur," he continued, referring to Jeff.

"Okay. Top," said GP, smiling in his biggest yet, making his eyes close and the crease around his lips appear. Freeing his hand from Top's grip, he takes his man by the nape, then they start kissing again. It is more passionate this time unlike the one they did earlier. They only stop after they hear a sound of pressurized air being released from an exhaust.

"That must be the rations; the truck is here," said GP, taking the initiative to separate his lips.

"Ready Chef?" asked Top – all smiles after.

"Yup. Let's go inside and take a look at what we have today." Gameplay stamps a last smack on Top's lips.

After they get out, Top and GP immediately goes to the delivery bay of Cocotte, which is directly next to the kitchen. Separating the two rooms are a slightly oversized saloon door and metallic grilles like what is usually seen in prison cells. When they get there, they see a delivery truck – mid-sized – is parked just before the entryway.

"Good morning, Chef Gameplay, Mister Tangsutthichai" greeted Pavel Naret Promphaopun, holding a cork board. Fastened to it are a number of papers.

"Good morning," greeted Top, with a short bow.

"Good morning, Pavel. I don't see Dome with you," replied GP, referring to .

"He is at the driver seat: he'll drive today while I supervise the inventory and turnover. Tomorrow, we switch responsibilities."

"Say hi to him for me."

"I surely will, Chef."

"Right, what did you bring me today?"

"I'll go get the carts," said Top, laying out a hand in front of GP, asking for something.

"Here." GP hands over a key the size of something that can open a drawer or a padlock. "Turn left; one-eighty."

"Got it." Top makes his way back to a panel on the wall. After pushing its small cover to the left, he is greeted with a keyhole, to which he inserts the key that GP gives him earlier. He turns it counterclockwise in a half-circle motion, and after that, the saloon door next to him slowly rises. After it stops, he moves the next blockade out of the way, sliding to the right. He, then, enters the storage room where the freezers and fridges are.

"Twenty salmon fillets, twenty full racks of pork ribs, ten kilos of scallops – shell-in – twenty fillets of halibut, and another twenty of cod," said Pavel, after taking out the containers for each. As he recites the items, he puts a check mark next to the corresponding spot on his physical list.

Emerging from the door of the delivery bay is Top, pushing two trolleys that have been stacked together. Each one will be able to carry about two adult humans standing back-to-back on its platform.

"How about the beef cuts, Pavel?" asked GP, as he smells a halibut fillet.

"One moment, chef," replied Pavel, turning around to get back in the truck.

"Stack these in one trolley." GP points to Top the deep, yellow plastic containers, each of which has a bed of ice in its bottom.

"Got it."

Pavel unloads five more containers: one having whole chickens in it; one with porterhouse cuts; another with fillet cuts – which are probably for the Wellington dish; one with assorted vegetables; the last with a variety of fruits. "All items accounted for, chef," he said afterwards after checking the corresponding items on his list. "And this is what you owe us," he continued, handing his board to GP.

"Right. Everything is complete." GP takes out of his pocket a cheque, which was obviously fed into a printer because of the way how the texts were written – straight as a ruler and with even spaces to separate a letter from a letter and a word from a word. He gives it to Pavel afterwards.

"Thank you, Chef. As always, we will send the receipt by mail, and your change will be deducted to your total tab on your next purchase."

"Right. Thank you, Pavel."

"Have a nice day, Chef, Mister Tangsutthichai." Pavel touches his cap and bows a little, bidding farewell to the two.

As GP stoops to pick up a container to load in on the other trolley, Pavel and Dome's truck slowly moves away.

"Let me help you, Gameplay," said Top, walking with his hands already outstretched.

"I can do this Top: I may look thin, but I can carry these with ease." GP did not disappoint. With proper form in carrying something and using his feet for leverage and not his back, he puts the rest of the containers on his trolley. "Easy," he said, giving his boyfriend a wink.

"Show off."

"You know I go to the gym regularly."

"Still – show off."

"Not really," countered Gameplay, flashing his set of pearly whites. "Although, thank you for helping me today and also for yesterday."

"Yesterday? What are thanking me from yesterday for?" asked Top as they start to push the trolleys inside.

"Come on, Top. You opened me an account. The bank called me yesterday to notify me that you opened it with an initial balance of ten thousand Baht, and it is a joint account for us."

"Wait Gameplay," said Top, his brows furrowed. "The bank must be mistaken: I didn't open any joint account for us."

***

Rapeewish Sangiamwong – more known to his colleagues as Beer – steps out of his slightly larger cubicle. "Crunch time," said CBOT's Information Technology Department head as he strides. Looking at his watch, it is currently displaying a 24-hour time format that reads 11:37. Outside, ten other cubicles – all in unified dimensions – lay out on the floor and evenly spaced from one another, with each one serving as workstation for the members of his team.

"Ready boss?" asked Yacht. He and eight others – all standing – are looking at Beer, waiting for instructions on what to do next.

"Hmmm...Where is our new hire? Where is Jeff?"

Looking around, Jump located Jeff still seating in his chair, looking at his screen with one hand on the mouse. "There he is. Working while his screen his locked," said Jump, prompting the others to chuckle.

"He fell asleep," said Gun, shaking his head.

"Is he okay?" asked Beer, squinting over their most junior member.

"He looked very drowsy when he came in." There is a trace of concern in the face of – another of Beer's men. Despite looking like someone who has just reached the age of puberty, he is actually a Senior Information Security Officer like Yacht and Gun.

"Really? Must have spent the other night worthlessly," said Beer, frustrated at the irresponsibility of someone whose first day of work it is. "You guys go on ahead and wait for us at the lobby. I'll wake him," he continued, which the others hear.

"Sure boss," replied Nine. Slowly, he and the others walk out of their room with Yacht and Gun cracking a joke or two as they leave.

With only the two of them in their office, Beer walks to Jeff's cubicle. "Jeff? Wakey Wakey. Jeff? Wake up," he said, tapping the other's shoulder lightly.

Slowly opening his eyes, Jeff looks around lazily to find the one responsible for getting him out of cloud nine. "OH MISTER BEER!" he exclaimed, loud enough to get the attention of some from the other groups, which they share the room with.

"It's lunch time; you are sleeping on production hours, Jeff." Beer has his arms crossed over his chest and his tone is firm.

"I apologize, boss. I must have dozed off without me knowing." Jeff runs his knuckles back and forth over his eyelids.

"Nine told me that you look tired when you came in earlier."

"I celebrated too much with my friends the other night," lied Jeff. He has not gotten enough rest since Thursday of the other week: he was working round-the-clock to make SaturnRabbit in optimal working condition.

"I expect more sense of responsibility than that, Mister Satur. What if another manager – or worse – someone from the Executives saw you? You surely would want to leave a better impression than that on your first working day here in CBOT." If looks can abrade, Jeff will have suffered a number of cuts from Beer's stare.

"It won't happen again, sir. I promise."

"I surely hope so. Else, I will give you a memo, something I don't like issuing to a subordinate unless I must."

"Yes, sir," said Jeff, bowing low because of the embarrassment.

"I'll take your word for it. Now, come," said Beer, rubbing the same shoulder he tapped earlier, as if saying "we're cool, just don't do it again".

"Huh? Where?"

"For lunch. We have a standing tradition here to have a group lunch whenever there is a new hire – to officially welcome you to the team."

"But I don't have..."

"It's my treat. Don't worry."

"Okay."

Standing up, Jeff follows Beer to the exit. "Uhm...Boss? I have something to request?"

"What is it?"

"I'd like to participate in the activity tomorrow – the upgrade of the firewall in the bank server. I'd like to do that."

"That? That's a boring activity, Jeff. I'd like you attending to support tickets better than that." Beer taps his ID card to the scanner on the wall. When the green light on its surface flares up, he opens the door and crosses the threshold.

"I'd like to do it myself. Plus, I want to feel the mainframe in there: how its controls are; how its interface looks like." It is Jeff's turn to tap his ID to the scanner while Beer holds the door open.

"I admire your initiative, Jeff. Even Yacht, Gun, and Nine are allergic to that task: they would always think of an excuse to pass," said Beer as Jeff exits the room. He swings the door afterwards to close it.

"So, can I do it?"

"Okay. I hope you enjoy. Updating the firewall takes a while to finish, and you may fall asleep as you wait."

"Can it be done by lunch time?" asked Jeff, curious.

"Yeah. Just give out an advanced notice to everyone through mail – maybe an hour or two before you start."

"Okay. Thanks boss."

"Anytime."

As they walk to the lift that will take them down to the lobby where the others are waiting, Jeff can't help but be elated and at the same time concerned as he will do something else in that place other than an upgrading CBOT's firewall.

------

Author's Note

My, oh my. Gameplay and Top are getting better together. Still, I'm with team Jeff-Gameplay, but at what is happening, Jeff needs to hurry, or he will never have a GP to take back.

Though, there are two things here: first, why does Jeff want to participate in that firewall upgrading thing; second, if Top did not open that joint account that Gameplay said, who did? 

Stay tuned for release of the next chapter - A Rabbit's Traces - soon.

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