cafe latte.
@feroxanfei!
customer service is not his strong suit. it's not something he's good at in the morning, but as mercy would have it—people don't try to talk to him when it's the morning. they just want their coffee. it happens at a predicted rhythm. sometimes, he'd see his regulars. sometimes, he'd see someone with eyebags so pronounced they might rival his own. but for the most part, no one asks anything more than bare minimum politeness. it's the afternoon shift that is the difficult part. loathe he is to admit that he'd rather wake up early, he hates sleeping in more if it means he has to deal with. with, well—this.
half-lidded onyx stares back at the pink one of the feroxi twins, the ink of his sharpie drying on the clear plastic cup in his hands.
the gears in his head turn, the life in his eyes dying as the order repeats itself as an echo in the grand theater for the joke of a life he leads. "let me get this straight," deere replies, slowly, his words in almost a half-drawl. as if the words are too weighty for him to speak into existence. "you want, and i repeat, a medium white chocolate frappé. finely blended, extra whipped cream and a chocolate drizzle. and," he continues, as a sigh escapes.
"a slice of lemon cake with," he tips the cap of his sharpie towards him again. "chocolate frosting." the question comes as less of a question as much as it is just a statement of fact, though surprise is as absent from his features as anything beyond exhaustion is. lemon, with chocolate frosting. lemon, with chocolate frosting. nevermind the fact he appeared to think that they could just happen to have frosting in the kitchen to customize a cake with, but le-mon with choc-o-late frosting. the worst part is it almost makes sense.
citrus paired well with chocolate.
BUT A SLICE OF LEMON CAKE WITH CHOCOLATE FROSTING—
deere breathes in deeply, exhaling as sharply as he sets the cup back down and caps his sharpie. "no." no other explanation is needed. "leave."