Summary: Deciding to abandon her plan for world domination, Cinder decides to fulfill her true dream: opening a small, quaint cafe. Colorful flowers, freshly brewed coffee, and and a rustic aesthetic gives the Lit Candle a homely vibe. It's the day of the grand opening. And Cinder's first customer? A foodie named Jaune Arc.
The Lit Candle
RWBY
Written from the perspective of Cinder Falls
"Here's your coffee, sir."
Setting down the saucer with a cup of my freshest brew, I held the serving tray tight to my chest. It felt like my heart was going to burst out… or maybe it was something else held tight within my shirt. Either way, it did little to hide my smile.
I've done it. I've done it! I've fulfilled my dream!
I've opened my own little cafe!
With all the money I've saved from my years of criminal enterprise, I bought some property and ordered some renovations. Today… today's the day I finally get to open my little cafe…!
Today is a brand new day!
My first customer took his first sip of the first coffee I've served in this cafe. My heart is pounding. Does he like it? Does he love it? Does the cup of Joe make his heart flutter? There's butterflies in my stomach… I have to know… I need to know...
"How is it, dear customer?"
The blonde haired customer takes a long sip. He sloshes some of the coffee from one cheek to the other. He sips a tiny drop then gulps the rest. He then he looks at his empty cup.
"It was okay."
...
It was okay?
It was just okay?
"Dear customer…," I began slowly, careful to not let those anger management classes go to waste. "Can you please elaborate on what you mean by it was just… okay?"
He looks at his me. His blue eyes bright and staring deep into my soul.
"There's no sugar. Also no cream. Or sugar…"
"Um… you didn't ask for any…"
"So I assumed you didn't have any."
… if he wanted cream and sugar why didn't he ask for it!?
Stupid little pr-
Okay.
Pause.
Breath, Cindy, breath. I got this. Remember your happy place. Remember your happy place… nice and cool as an iceberg… think of your power animal… Penguins. Penguins. Penguins.
"W-why don't I get you another cup, dear customer?" I smiled through my grinding teeth.
"Sure. Can I get cream and five sugars?"
What kind of goofus takes a coffee with cream and five sugars? Ugh… whatever. Just make this guy his coffee and get it over it… nobody is leaving my cafe thinking my coffee is just okay!
Returning to the table with another freshly brewed cup of coffee, this time with the added sugar and cream, I placed it at his table.
He looked at it.
He sniffed it.
He took a sip.
"Actually, I hate coffee. Can I get some tea instead?"
I could feel my head steaming.
Returning to the kitchen, I didn't even have to turn off the stove. A touch of my hand sent the kettle burning red and the water boiling. Within seconds of adding the tea leaves and sealing the kettle, it began whistling.
Pouring into a fresh cup, I brought the tea out to the customer.
"Here's your tea, sir."
He took a sip.
"Tastes burnt. Like it's angry."
"What."
"Well it's just that - you see - tea leaves have feelings. And this one feels like it was boiled in rage. You should never make tea angry, otherwise it's the leaves that get hurt."
What the heck is this freak?
"There there little guys," he whispers to his cup. "Nobody can hurt you now! You're safe now. This is your safe space, your safe place, okay? So don't be scared, mon ami."
I wanted to smack him over the head with my serving tray…
Ugh.
Bad Cinder. Bad Cinder. No violent thoughts. Remember the sessions. Breath. Breath.
Happy thoughts.
Happy thoughts.
Balloons.
Cotton Candy.
Puppies.
A flowery meadow with a babbling brook…
...all the cities of Remnant burning beneath my wrath and fury…
Wait no! No burning! No wrath! No fury!
"Hey, can I get a blueberry muffin?"
"Of course!"
I rushed to the counter, eager to get away from him. Whatever he was, he was causing my blood to boil and my thoughts to become corrupted with the 'old' me. But the 'new' me isn't about that life anymore.
The 'new' me is reformed!
I placed the blueberry muffin on his table.
"If there's anything you need, please do not hesitate to call me over dear customer."
A few seconds later, he called me over.
"There's not enough blueberry in my muffin, ma'am."
Not enough blueberries in his muffin? What the heck is this freak? Does he count his blueberries?
There, on his table, was his muffin sliced open into eighths. It looked like someone did surgery on on a blueberry muffin with the muffin paper as an operating table. The blueberries themselves were plucked out and neatly arranged on the edge of the plate.
…
I guess he does count blueberries.
Wait.
What does he mean there's not enough blueberries in his muffin?
"What do you mean?" I asked gritting through my teeth.
He coughed, smiled and began his explanation.
"As part of the Remnant Accords to Resolve the Great War, it was decided that a standard blueberry muffin must contain at least twenty blueberries in order to qualify as a blueberry muffin. This muffin contains sixteen and three quarters. In addition, the blueberry distribution favors the top too much which gives the false impression that there is an excess of blueberries when in reality there is nothing but pale, white lies awaiting someone expecting a blueberry-filled blueberry muffin."
He pulls out his portable terminal and shows me the citations and relevant passages.
I can't frickin' believe the Great War was partly caused by a blueberry counting dispute. People died in this war! Over how many blueberries their children and grandchildren should be able to expect in a blueberry muffin!
I sighed.
Another deep breath.
"Would you like another blueberry, dear customer?"
"Nah, I'm allergic. I think I'm good. Can I get my bill?"
…
Thank the heavens he's leaving.
I went to the register and popped in the bill. Printing out the receipt and bringing it to him I laid it on the table. It was a receipt for only 100 lien. I didn't charge him for the coffee or the muffin. I wanted to leave a good impression, regardless of how horribly picky he was.
"Would you like anything to go?" I hoped I wouldn't regret asking.
The blonde boy took the receipt and looked at it.
He placed a 10,000 lien note and handed it to me.
I sighed. At least this part was normal.
I rang up the change and returned to the table only to find him reading to leave.
"Customer, your change."
I offered him bills totalling 9,900 lien.
"Nah, keep it. This is your grand opening right? And I'm first customer? You probably need that more than me."
I took the money and held it close to my chest.
"Um… t-thank you."
He turned to leave, pushing the door open. The bell at the top of the doorway rang.
"Hey, you've got a nice cafe here. It's got a pretty good vibe. Please it's got a great charm, just like you!"
"Th-thank you."
"I'll come back some time and I'll make sure to bring some friends too." He smiled before turning around and leaving me alone in my quiet, little cafe.
For a few moments, I stood there watching the door where he had just left.
Before long other customers arrived.
I seated them and took their orders and brought them their drinks.
My heart was still beating so fast.
For some particular reason, I was hoping that first customer of mine would come back sooner.
The Lit Candle Fin