They were in a hurry, the line at the coffee shop taking far longer than normal.
Now, normally, this wouldn't have been a problem for Butch. They like taking things slow some times, like to smell the proverbial roses, but this was a really bad day for it.
It was Monday, dark sheets of rain splatter across the city, and they had a shipment of poinsettias arriving in half an hour for the holiday rush, but Butch needed their peppermint mocha! They knew from past years that this particular drink sold out by midday and now was the only time they had to get it before they were stuck at the shop, trimming flowers and creating gift baskets for customers eager to have their gifts shipped out on time.
Butch tapped their foot, but urged it to settle. They had time, it was fine, The flower shop was just down the street and the line was getting shorter by the minute. Take a moment and breathe.
And they did, inhaling the alluring scent of coffee, peppermint, and freshly baked muffins. They loved this shop, everything was always freshly made and organically grown. It made them smile to be in such a lovely place.
It made them even happier when they got to the front of the line, drink ordered, then placed in their tan hands, the cup seeping warmth into the their fingers.
They took a sip, enjoying the almost too hot burn down their throat, before dropping a tip into the jar on the counter. There were never in too much of a hurry to tip, but they need to get going, so they spun around on their heel, intent on walking through the front door and taking a hit from the cold wind once again.
Only, it wasn't the wind that they hit.
Butch stumbled back, hands clutching the useless, empty cardboard cup that had previously been holding their long awaited drink. Butch felt a flash of irritation, but it was quickly replaced with concern at hearing a curse filled yelp.
There, not two feet ahead, was someone with a very impressive handlebar mustache, and a very severe scowl shooting from under it towards Butch's direction. There was a brown stain growing larger across a cream sweater, likely having still been hot enough to sting, but was now cooling down towards being very uncomfortable.
Butch felt their face heat up, embarrassed at the scene they had caused. "I am so sorry, I didn't see you there!"
The other person lifted an eyebrow, "Well, it wouldn't have been very bloody hard for you to see me if you didn't try to rush out of here like you robbed the place."
Butch put a hand behind their head, fingers twiddling with their ponytail in a sheepish gesture. They couldn't help but notice that the other person had a nice accent. "Very true, I was just in such a hurry that my feet got ahead of me...are you alright, I didn't scald you, did I, Miss or Mister...?"
"Mister, and it's Reginald," the man sighed, "and I'm fine, really, no need for me to call my lawyer, but my jumper may be in need of a coroner." Reginald eyed his sweater with distaste, rubbing at the yarn as if he could erase the stain with willpower alone.
Butch felt awful, they probably ruined that man's entire day. "If I wasn't running late I would take it to the cleaners myself, but, here, take this and stop by at closing and I'll see what I can do."
Butch handed him a business card advertising 'Flowers' Flowers and Lawn Care', before apologizing again and rushing – much more carefully – out the door and to their shop.
They were late for their delivery, but the driver had been nice enough to wait a few minutes longer than what protocol dictated since Butch was always punctual when it came to delivers.
Butch signed for the flowers, gave the driver their thanks, wishing the other happy holidays before shutting themselves away from the cold, enjoying the warm, greenhouse air of the shop.
It was within those comforting walls that they allowed themselves to think that Reggie was a very lovely man.
They were looking forward to seeing him again.