053 » we are the kings and queens

[schweigsam]

[he likes the cafe because it has a no-tipping policy, and because its employees have never tried to kick him out for loitering in it too long. in return, he tries to be a model customer: he orders the same thing every day — blue mountain coffee, one cream, one sugar — he keeps to himself, he never bothers the waitstaff, and he leaves if every other table is taken. if there's some way he can be a less demanding customer, he simply doesn't know about it.

other people at school say the barista can be kind of surly sometimes, but cruz isn't the sort of person who values service with a smile. this cafe is all he needs.

the boy who always asks for one cream and one sugar is usually immaculate in his crisp school uniform, with his hair combed straight and his bag slung over his shoulder — so something is clearly wrong when, one afternoon, the door chimes jangle and he is standing in the doorway with his hair mussed and visible scratches on one cheek. an angry red mark on his opposite cheek makes it clear that someone must have socked him in the face.

he walks up to the counter as if nothing is wrong.]

...One Blue Mountain, please.

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[vernus]

[sandalphon has worked in this cafe long enough that he knows the regulars by now. the majority of patrons are students. he's seen gaggles of schoolgirls visit to order sugary monstrosities topped with obscene amounts of cream after class, mixed groups who order something to last them for a while as they study, loners who quietly keep themselves occupied. there's the occasional harried employee from the office next door who drops by with a huge list of an order and leaves juggling a fully loaded tray of coffees for their coworkers. there are dates too, of course, but the cafe, while cozy and comfortable, isn't quite as eye-catching as some of their competitors.

they don't offer anything special service-wise—no free refills or anything of that nature—but for the most part, the atmosphere is peaceful enough that it's become a well-liked study spot and hangout. it's not exactly the most popular cafe in town, but he can attest that they have the best coffee.

sandalphon would know. after all, he makes it.

it's not an especially busy shift today. they've had a decent flow of customers, but with the latest lull, sandalphon occupies himself with cleaning the counter, glancing briefly at his lecture notes from where they're artfully concealed from customers behind an appliance. cain is the only other person manning the shift with him right now, and he's been content to go through stock in the back while cheerfully turning a blind eye to sandalphon's cramming.

at the chime of the bell, sandalphon looks up and manages not to frown at the sight before him. he remembers this boy—he's quiet, keeps to himself, doesn't disturb anyone, has the same exact order every time, like clockwork—and this is the first time he's seen him in this state.]

Just a moment.

[he taps at the register screen, processing the order — then, after a thought, voids the balance and starts on the drink. it's fine. cain won't breathe a word if he knows what's best for him. by the time sandalphon finishes brewing the order, the fresh aroma of newly ground coffee is drifting lazily by the counter. he places the drink in front of cruz with no fanfare, only his typical look of indifference.]

It's on the house today.

[schweigsam]

[bruised and blue-eyed, the boy stiffens slightly when sandalphon voids the order, though one would be hard-pressed to see his discomfort. it's not rage flickering in the empty lake of his eyes, but confusion; his brow furrows slightly, and his lips part for a question he has yet to form in his throat. why?]

...I have the money.

[it would sound accusatory if he didn't say it so flatly.]

[vernus]

[sandalphon isn't a mind-reader, but he's a decent enough read of body language that he can gauge the boy's confusion. commenting blatantly on the bruises would be presumptuous at best, so he says nothing about them. instead, he gives a noncommittal shrug.]

A treat for one of our regulars. [he says it blandly enough, and sandalphon's neutral expression doesn't falter.] If you don't want it, you're welcome to pay.

[he's not one to insist, after all—if the kid's pride wants to tackle the bill, then sandalphon's done what he can.]

[schweigsam]

[cruz is silent for another moment, weighing his options: there is the matter of his pride, the fact that the barista's kindness may be misplaced, but it seems like the kind of situation where it would be more rude for cruz to refuse. in the end, the boy relents, quietly stowing his wallet back into his bag. it is difficult to read his expression — there seems to be something like guilt flickering behind his irises.

he doesn't usually do things like this, but then this has been a very unusual day, and cruz can't continue pretending that he can just go on with his daily routine. normally, the boy takes a table by one of the windows, or else near the wall if he can help it — but today, he seats himself at the counter, so that he can sit and drink while sandalphon works.

he holds the lidded paper coffee cup between his hands, where it warms his palms.]

...Thank you.

[after a pause, he asks:]

...How bad does it look?

[vernus]

Terrible.

[sandalphon doesn't mince words, but to avoid letting the boy feel like a zoo animal, he resumes cleaning the counter, acting as he normally would. he'd be pretty irate himself if someone gawked at him like he was on display.]

If it hasn't yet been tended to, we have a first-aid kit in the back.

[it's obvious enough that the injuries are still fresh, but sandalphon offers an easy out, if the boy would rather say nothing. admittedly, he's used it a few times himself... and at this point, his coworkers have learned not to ask too many questions.]