It was nine in the morning, and Alfred had had enough. First, the moment he stepped out of bed, he tripped over a pile of discarded clothes. Then he had to take a cold shower, and afterwards he spilled coffee on his shirt. He replaced it, and now he was on his way to work with a piece of toast in his mouth. He was out of jam, so it was only buttered. This was enough, in Alfred's opinion, to make even the most cheerful of people a little short-tempered. The usually laid back American was now cross, snappish and irritable.
At nine-thirty, Alfred was behind the counter in a small shop, selling coffee and pastries to the people that walked up. He tried to be friendly, or at least decent to the customers, yet he was unusually curt and biting to his coworkers.
He carried on with his unpleasant demeanor until precisely eleven, but changed abruptly when a certain someone came in.
Alfred waved at the blond, bushy haired young man. After nearly a month he had gotten the man's name, and soon after that, 'befriended' Arthur Kirkland. Arthur was an aspiring author, and would come in at eleven every weekday morning. But, he didn't come in on weekends. Arthur walked up to the counter, ordering the same thing he always did. Lemon tea and a blueberry scone. Alfred beamed at him, nodding and getting to work. He babbled to the Englishman as he handed him the order just a little while later.
"Eleven as always, huh? I don't know why you keep coming here, you could probably get better breakfast someplace else, yanno. Good to see you though! Enjoy your food and all, good morning by the way." Arthur blinked, taking the bag and cup from him as he processed the lightning-fast rambling. He nodded his head just a bit, giving a noncommital shrug and sitting down. "I like the atmosphere." He mumbled, meeting his eyes. Arthur then settled back in his seat, taking a sip of tea and nibbling on his breakfast.
Alfred nodded, and kept working, but took a few moments to speak with him more often than he should have. This wasn't the most responsible thing to do, but he kept at it even so. "Hey, hey Artie-" He started, leaning over the table and grinning like a fool. Alfred sighed, taking a deep breath and tugging on his collar. "We're friends, yeah? So we should hang out with each other at times other than eleven in the morning on weekdays." He chuckled for a moment, a pink tinge rising to his cheeks at a steady rate. "So! Dinner, yeah? Or not, we could go for a walk- go someplace other than a restaurant or cafe or whatever..."
As Alfred gave his nervous laugh, Arthur's lip quirked into a small smile. Alfred continued his babbling as Arthur cleaned up, tossing out his bag and empty cup. Arthur looked up at him, and Alfred ceased his long-winded explanation on why they should spend time together.
Arthur cleared his throat. "I suppose you've made a compelling argument, though I was going to say yes in the first place." Arthur chuckled, then breathed a soft sigh. He reached into his pocket, getting out a notepad. The Englishman quickly jotted something down, tearing out the sheet of paper and handing it to him. "My address. Come by at around eight 'o clock tonight, and we'll decide on an activity then. See you later, Alfred." He waved, smiling, turning and leaving the cafe.
Alfred waved him goodbye, beaming and stuffing the paper into his pocket. As Arthur headed down the street, he turned, glaring at his coworkers. "The hell are you looking at?" He snapped to one, and he resumed his grumpy demeanor. At least, he would until eight 'o clock tonight.