In her kitten heels and black dress pants, Cordelia looks just as out of place as she feels. This coffee shop is color and comfort in every sense of the word: earthy oranges, yellows, and browns accented by the plants decorating every table (every available surface, really); tables and chairs interspersed with mismatched couches; and several wildly patterned rugs covering the floor and walls alike. A song she can almost identify filters through the speakers–definitely something from the 70s. She's just about to turn around, resign herself to Starbucks, when the girl behind the counter notices her.
"Welcome to Mirage Cafe! Can I get somethin' started for you, Miss?" Some of the college-age patrons glance up before returning to their books. Caught, Cordelia flushes. But the girl's warm eyes and genuine smile make her relax a fraction, at least until she reaches the counter and realizes she's completely forgotten to look at the menu.
"Um, I don't really know," she apologizes, biting her lip as she scans desperately for a term she recognizes. "I just need something to keep me alive for the next eight hours." The barista giggles, a few wispy curls escaping from her hair clip as she nods. Up close, Cordelia can see that her name tag reads Misty.
"One of those days, huh?" Misty asks with a sympathetic smile. "I've got just the thing." She spins away, humming to the new song that comes on.
"Fleetwood Mac!" The headmistress blurts. Misty turns to her with a giddy grin. "Sorry, I've been trying to remember they're name since I walked in here."
"They're my favorite band! Stevie Nicks is my idol," she sighs happily, staring at a poster of the woman herself that Cordelia hadn't noticed before. "Oh, d'you want a cup for here or to go?"
"To go, please. I haven't listened to them in a long time."
"Her music is amazin'. It just…does somethin' to you." Misty returns, fingers brushing the older woman's as she hands over the drink. "Try this." Cordelia raises the cup to her lips obediently, brow lifting in happy surprise as she sips. It's sweeter than most coffee she's had, flavored with honey, vanilla, and…lavender. Yes, that was it.
"It's good," she confirms at Misty's expectant face. "How much do I owe you?" She reaches inside her purse, but the barista waves her off.
"First one's on the house." Her eyes sparkle like sun on the ocean as Cordelia tries to object. "Consider it a bribe to start listenin' to Fleetwood again." The headmistress chuckles, taking another sip of her latte.
"I'll make sure to do that."
And that is how Cordelia Goode finds herself walking into Mirage Cafe for the eighth day in a row.
"Hey, Miss Cordelia!" Misty greets her with that bright, blinding smile. "Your usual?" She doesn't wait for an answer; the headmistress always orders the same latte the girl made for her that first time. Watching the hippie Cajun sway along to Gypsy as she works, Cordelia's heart does an unexpected flip. She still hasn't told Misty that the caffeine makes her jittery for hours after drinking it. She figures she'll build up a tolerance soon enough.
