The lesson of today’s combat training turned out to be this: “Having no sense of fear makes one slightly more prone to hitting the canvas with one’s nose when wrestling.” Fortunately, Kingswood Clinic is available for snout repairs. Freshly healed, Brango walks outside with a wave to the reception and no... well, *some* worries. But not a broken nose. Outside, a ladder has been set up next to the entrance. The wind is blowing strong and expletives can be faintly heard from the roof above.
The no worries was correct actually, as they are incapable of worry. Really the no fear resulting in more injuries was not a surprise to them, they figure that until they learn how to compensate for it in this new area of their life, the Kingswood Clinic staff will be seeing a lot of them.
They look up when they hear the cursing above them. “You okay up there?” They call up.
He sips his coffee. “Well, there’s me home. Lass at Book’s does it right, if a bit fancy like. But if it’s a place ye can’t brew it yerself? No feckin’ idea. They’ll put the milk in first or some shite.” He shudders slightly.
They cock their head, and look mildly amused. “You can just, ask them to not put milk in it. And I’m not sure which lass at Book’s your talking about, but my source on tea information was gonna be a lass at Book’s.”
“Abigail? Seems fond of the ‘high tea’ ting. Good people, mind. Don’t think they want the reputation of bein’ the new tea-shop in town, so I’m not goin’ t’bother them every time I’m gaspin’ for a cup.”
They nod, “Yeah, Abigail does seem like someone who would know tea. I was thinking of Asti though, Asterope?” They glance at Pat to see if he gives any indication of knowing her. “She likes tea, and could probably recommend a tea shop? Abigail could definitely recommend a fancy tea shop though.”
“Hm. Maybe. Seems like there’s an endless number of folk t’meet at that shop. Still, I have a kettle and plenty bags o’tea to survive me until I fall down an’ don’t get back up, sure.” He turns down some winding side-streets, sipping on his coffee as he navigates.
“Well, if you’ll give me a description of what qualities you want in tea, I can text Asti and see if she can recommend a place, to save you at least from buying coffee out of some sense of obligation?”
“What I want in a tea is tea. No chamomile or nothin’. There’s jus’… a proper way of makin’ it, sure. Four minutes brew, splash of milk not creamer, sugar an’ a stir. Maybe there’s a café or somethin’ that lets y’just do it yerself, mind.”
He sniffs. “What you doin’ fer work, now then?”
They quickly type into their phone his description, and send a text. Looking up, they say, “I work at Crossroads Tavern, do you know it? I mostly work in the front but I’ve been starting to work in the kitchen too. Learning to cook and stuff.”
“Crossroads... I’ve heard of it, sure. What kinda place is it, like? Always strugglin’ to find good lunch places, mind.”
