Vincent is intrigued by Allen, curious to understand what their similarities are. Could he really find someone he can relate to? Someone that understands him? However, with Allen keeping his distance, he can never get too close. Vincent is playing a waiting game, waiting to coax something out of the detective. Sometimes it pays off, a question cleverly phrased as a one-off utterance gets the detective to slip up and spill, while other times Allen is completely closed off from him.

He likes that Allen doesn't try to flatter him in any way, doesn't follow him around like a dog, isn't annoying or particularly suffocating. A loyal patron to his restaurant, and one that tips his workers generously! However, it irritates him that he can't really bend Allen to his will. His charismatic persona that he shows to other fails on the seasoned detective, and he finds it difficult to get a read on him.

After the events of Abattoir, the guilt is almost crushing, suffocating. Vincent had blood on his hands. Two innocent people died, and for what? For a tasteless dish? If this ever got out, his reputation he had built for years would burn, his livelihood destroyed. There's only one option. He'll never taste, no matter what. Why even try anymore?

But before he could take that step towards crossing over, he's stopped. A vengeful hand pulls him backwards into a colder embrace. Why did he stop him? Didn't he want him dead? Though, the better question that the detective countered with was this: What right do you have to die?

Vincent can't wrap his mind around it. It all happens in a blur, a daze. How much time had passed? It definitely hadn't been over the course of a day, just how many strings did Allen pull?

It's futile to think about. What matters now is that Vincent is in his apartment, standing in his kitchen, and Allen is sitting at the dinner table. Right, he had brought him back home at some point.

The lines between love and hate begin to blur. Guilt tethers Vincent to Allen, wrapped around his neck like a collar to keep him in check. It pulls him away from the edge. Death would be too kind.

Vince didn't need to think about anything else. He just had to do what he did best, what he spent his whole life doing, and what only he could do for Allen. This was his repentance, served on a silver platter to the only person that knew his sin.

Allen hates Vincent. He had hated him since the moment they had crossed paths. The audacity he had, to hide away his true self and project a false face. Who was he trying to impress, what was he trying to prove? And why did it work? As much as Allen hated the chef, his dishes were something special. He could stomach the unique textures, and enjoy the taste. Allen loves his cooking, though he was hates to admit it. He's obsessed with it, dependent on the satisfaction of finally being able to eat for once in his life.

After the events of Abattoir, Allen can barely put how he feels into words. Hurt. Betrayal. Hatred. Bitter. Vincent was right there. He could let him die. Justice would serve itself on a silver platter with a shiny butchers knife, right in front of him. All he had to do was sit back and observe, just as he always had done.

But he moves. His hand grabs Vincent's wrists, and drags him up off the floor letting the knife clatter to the floor. What right did he have to die? Vincent was choosing the easy way out, a last act of selfishness. But Allen was selfish too. He wouldn't let him get away that easily.

Vincent cleaned up pretty well after himself, all Allen had to do was tie up loose ends and discard of the evidence. The missing persons posters would get stapled over, or float down a river after falling off a pole. The case will go cold as the lovers reunite in death. But Allen and Vincent are still alive.

Allen moves into Vincent's apartment, keeping an eye on him. Vincent never once fought back, as if accepting this as his punishment. Even with his passive behavior, Allen kept close, even hovering nearby as he did something as simple as drinking wine on the couch.

The dependency on Vincent's dishes, and his hatred for what Vincent has done ties Allen to the chef. Allen can't let Vincent die. He can't eat without him, and Vince doesn't deserve to take the easy way out. Taking the role of judge, jury, and executioner, Allen watches over Vincent as he serves him another dish.