slices of cake, not pieces of pie (closed, for avoidstrangerdanger)
Hijiri made it a habit to check out any cafe that popped up in town. Priority went to cafes that also served cakes. Pastries were fine, but Hijiri preferred cakes. Maybe it came from a childhood of fancy dinners with entire tables covered in tiny single serving cakes.
Or maybe he just liked sweets.
But he was here on a mission. A Mission, even. He'd ordered so much cake, everything from sachertorte to strawberry shortcake to cheesecake to tiramisu, that there was barely enough space on the table for drinks. Hijiri had a latte with some kind of flower etched in the foam; he had gotten Assam tea for his date. He hadn't touched his drink, so if his date preferred coffee, they could just switch.
Hijiri glanced at the clock on the cafe wall. "He's late."
Yes, Hijiri was on a Mission to make MƤrz von Ludowing gain about ten more pounds, because jeeesus, the poor kid was skinny and Hijiri would not stand for it.
