As the scalding hot bisque dumped onto Zeno's chest, Jean-Claude cried out. "Oh, God!" he said, fumbling at the overturned bowl as if he hadn't intended to knock the tray over on his way past.
The steaming soup soaked through Zeno's jacket and shirt in an instant. He grimaced and sucked in air between clenched teeth as the heat oozed against his skin.
As Jean-Claude chucked the bowl and Zeno's serving tray onto a countertop, Chef Dominick stepped over from the stove. "Call an ambulance," he said. "I'll get the first aid kit."
"No," Zeno said firmly. "I'm fine. Just gimme a towel."
"We've got to get you checked out," said Dominick. "You could have burns."
"Sure I do," said the spindly geezer, pointing fingers at his short sideburns. "Here and here."
Jean-Claude handed him a to
