"Shit," Alessia muttered under her breath as the tiny belle above the door rang out.

The woman was dressed too formally to be grabbing some food from The Beef of all places. Alessia's eyes dropped to the older woman's hands and her heart thudded against the walls of her chest.

A clipboard.

Nothing good ever came out of a clipboard.

Alessia brushed past Richie attempting to prevent his actions from escalating the situation that was about to unfold.

"Hello," Alessia smiled, tucking the small towel into the waist of her apron, "How can we help you?"

"I'm from the Chicago Board of Health," the older woman explained curtly, "I'm here to inspect he property."

Just behind Alessia, Richie's eyebrows shot upwards, and he pushed forward to stand beside the Berzatto woman.

"You're not—"

"Yo!" Carmen's voice carried across the room.

"Yo. I can handle this myself cousin." Richie denied any sort of help from the other man.

Alessia rolled her eyes, she was handling it perfectly well before Richie stepped in.

"So, you're not Ron."

The woman shook her head, "Ron's gone. Gone, gone."

Marcus' eyes widened, "Ron's dead?"

"Who's Ron?" Alessia pipped up, her eyebrows furrowed.

"My partner, Ron Pager." The woman informed, and then turned to Carmen, "He passed away. I'm running his routes. Nancy Chore, Chicago Board of Health."

The woman, Nancy, eyed Richie, "I'm here to inspect the property."

Carmen stepped forward, offering his hand, "Ok, Nancy, hi. I'm Carmen Berzatto. I'm the owner."

Richie disagreed, "He's the owner's brother, actually. He's also dead."

"Nice, Richie." Alessia scoffed, leaning against the wall behind her.

Nancy's eyes flickered to Carmen, "He doesn't look dead."

"No, no, I'm not dead. My brother's dead."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Nancy apologized.

Carmen nodded, "Thank you."

Richie lowered his head, "Yeah, I'm sorry for your loss, too. Can I uh, see some kind of identification."

Alessia took a breath, he couldn't be serious. The woman in front of them released a half-scoff, holding up her badge.

Richie crossed his arms, "Interesting."

"Is it? It's interesting? What's interesting about that?" Carmen's eyes flickered to Richie.

"It's an interesting—"

"Carmy, just let it go," Alessia sighed, and her brother nodded in reply. He knew that she was right.

"Nancy, if you need anything, just let us know." Carmen informed her, "Just make yourself at home, okay? Thank you, thank you."

Carmen spun on his heels making his way back to the kitchen, "Where's Tina and Ebra?"

"No funny business, Ms. Chore." Richie insisted, and Alessia rolled her eyes, brushing past him.

The lady pointed at him, with a sarcastic smile, "You too."

"The health inspector is coming in here. And she's not nice. She's not your friend," Fak spoke in a hushed voice, "She may smile, see the teeth...they're daggers."

Alessia sighed gently patting Fak's shoulder, "Neil, honey?"

The man turned and looked at her, a bit guilty as though he was a child that was caught doing something wrong, "Yes, Less?"

"You can't just sit around and gossip about her while she's here," Alessia noted, "There has to be something else for you to do...so find it."

"Heard," he nodded, "Sorry, Less."

The blonde smiled gently, "It's Okay."

"Does anybody know how dangerous this is?"

The woman's words carried through the room and Alessia's heart dropped. This was not good.

She approached the rest of the group quickly, wondering what she had discovered in this hell hole of a restaurant.

Carmen busted through the door, "Yo! Yo, what's going on?"

"Nah— just," Richie began to defend, "It wasn't dangerous..."

"What's dangerous," Carmen questioned.

"...Ms. Chore, until you pulled it out." Richie defended.

"I discovered a large hole in the tile," the woman began, "Looks like a former gas line next to the stove tops. Not only was it not properly dry-walled and caulked, but someone clogged the hole with napkins and then proxied over it with some kind of plastic."

"Don't look at me!" Richie exclaimed.

"Grease seeped into the napkins and the proxy became un-proxied."

"So, what does that mean?" Carmen inquired.

"A potential cross-contamination." The woman stated, "Additionally, no hot water in the hand station."

"Wait that hot water actually—" Sydney started, but of course Richie spoke right over her.

"Okay, that one, you know Ms. Chore," Richie spoke, "I told Chicago Ron this a hundred times. You just gotta wait a minute."

"You're gonna talk over me?" Sydney asked, "And take longer?"

"...so you can relax on that one. So relax," Richie continued.

"Cool. Good." Sydney accepted her fate, annoyed by Richie's actions.

"Richie! Richie," Alessia started, a bit of frustration seeping into her tone, "You're not helping, okay?"

The man scoffed, "Whatever, Cousin. I don't see you doing anything to help either."

"Oh you know what—"

"Mae, please." Carmen sighed, his voice raising over the chaos, in defeat, Alessia clamped her mouth shut.

"Health code states that any sink near a prep area needs to deliver instantly hot water." Ms. Chore explained, "To prevent the spread of bacteria."

Carmen rubbed his forehead and Alessia leaned against the counter as the woman continued to deliver bad news.

"I haven't even delivered the big one yet," she informed them, and Alessia pinched the bridge of her nose. She should have never left her old job.

Neil peeked around the corner, "There's a big one?"

"What is the big one?" Carmen asked, bracing himself for the answer.

"Someone left a pack of cigarettes on the stove top near the burners." The woman held up the cigarettes.

They hit the counter with a thud, "Not only very dangerous, but also a potential containment."

Carmen's eyes darted over to Richie, "Motherfucker."

"You can say that again," the woman stated, and Richie slammed his hands on the counter, "Motherfucker!"

"Don't actually say it again you fucking idiot!" Carmen shouted.

"You're about to get fucking power-washed cousin."

"Okay," Alessia sighed dropping the towel she held onto the counter, "Everyone needs to chill the fuck out!"

The chaos slowly began to creep down in volume, Alessia yelling usually had the effect on the people she grew up with because she didn't do that often.

"Unfortunately, these violations leave me no choice. I award you a "C"."

Author's Note:

Drama, drama, drama.