“I don’t understand.”
There’s a note of finality in his words, the sound of someone resigned to his fate. Upon a face normally blank with indifference, there is frustration and annoyance written into every pore.
He’s trying to order at a coffee shop, you see. The human world is the only place he can drink the stuff without hearing his brother whine in his ears. Hypnos swore up and down he was allergic- Thanatos was quite positive that was impossible.
Ignoring the stuttering barista, the god swept to an empty table and dumped his books across it’s surface. When did coffee sizes all become ‘large’ said in different languages? Why were there so many flavors? And so many words for coffee with milk and coffee without milk?
Over the years, humans had created many things. Death fancied himself quite knowledgable about most of them; but apparently the finer points of “Starbucks” were lost to him.
The need for caffeine in his veins was pressing though. Something would have to be done.
Swallowing around the pride in his throat, he turned to the human seated at the table next to his. They already had a drink in front of them, meaning they knew how this fucking system worked.
“If I would like a small black coffee with peppermint, how do I ask for it?"
Little did he know that his meaning would have gotten across just fine with those words.
