"Um. Sir, you can’t smoke here,” says the barista boy that looks like he still belongs in kindergarten. The longer Dorian stays silent, the more visible the kid’s nerves are. But what is he supposed to do? Acknowledge the pimpled scrawny virgin? Psha. “You’re... disturbing the other customers...?” he boy adds, trying to stand up for the coffee shop’s policy.
Blowing some smoke out, Dorian makes a show of turning his head around. He’s slow and bothered. There’s only one other person in this godforsaken cafe and he’d be damned if he has to put a cuban out just for them. “Does it disturb you?”







