Everyone else refers to him as the creepy guy who gets a plain black and sits in the corner every monday, Charles refers to him as the dreamiest man he'd ever seen.
He can't help but smile to himself, just a little bit, every time he sees the guy skulk in the corner, because he just looks like the kind of guy who would drink nothing but black coffee. Tall, sculpted features, soft blue eyes, the whole complex- you know, the kind of brooding love interest that you might find in 5 cent romance novel in a grocery store. He comes in every monday at eight with a leather jacket draped over his shoulders and a scowl carved into his face, and Charles chuckles to himself because it just seems so ordinary.
He owns the coffee shop, but he's been working here like any other employee. It's a relatively hidden cafe, and he usually sees the same customers over and over again - there were jocks with bodies like these where made in a factory, basic hipsters - and this guy just screams " Help me I have a dark past."
"You know," Charles drawls slowly as the man gives his usual order, "you order the same thing every time you come in here." He starts ringing up the drink with a cheesy smile, and he chuckles. "What's life without spontaneity?"
The guy hardly looks amused by Charles banter. "Normal." He gruffs swings his arms by his sides, and Stiles can already tell that he's musing on whether or not he should tip this time around. Grabbing a medium-sized cup from behind the counter Charles continued his one-sided conversation "You don't want to even try a new one?"
"Do I look like the kind of person who enjoys new things?"
"You look like the kind of person who doesn't enjoy anything in life." Charles grins. He starts filling the cup, and even as he speaks, he's inching towards the caramel pump. "That's not really any way to live life, is it friend?"
The guy's scowl deepens, and Charles tries to keep from laughing, because he's definitely not getting a tip today. "Are you a therapist or a barista?"
"Neither." Charles jokes, and the conversation, like he planned, distracts the dark man enough so he doesn't see when Charles puts a pump of caramel syrup into the coffee. He grabs a top to the cup off the side of the counter and grins. "I'm actually a telepath that just wanted to spend all of his free time and money of a coffee shop."
Somehow, the guy doesn't seem amused or surprised.
Charles then slowly pokes the coffee across the counter as tall dark and handsome starts rifling through the bills in his wallet. "That'll be two dollars and eight cents." he chirps politely, and he's surprised to see that the guy can look even more frustrated, shoving his hand into the pocket of his jeans.
He slams the money on the counter and mumbles a quick, "Thanks." before going to sulk in the corner.
