"Candy isn't always sweet, Ruby. I personally enjoy something a bit more bitter; having sugar all the time makes it a norm, and thus no longer special. If your tastes are only for sugar, then I can do nothing else, than accuse you of having something along the lines of a monochromatic life."
Naturally, he would be making to serve the same Ruby a large mug of hot chocolate teeming with marshmallows. If the hand which brought this drink wasn't so skilled at doing so, Ruby might have made to smite that same hand along with its tongue.
"David, just because you own and run this little café, it doesn't mean you get to chide me about my ordering choices. I pay you to make me warm drinks."
With amusement creeping into the voice of the sole owner and server of the café, came a most truthful reminder.
"Actually, it's because anyone else would call up Beacon, and tell them that you're skipping your after lunch with your Heiress friend. Seriously, girl, if you aren't making Miss Moneybags over there pay for your drinks, then you need to look over your life choices."
As the only other customers within the small though popular café, Both Ruby and Weiss found themselves alone with the well-dressed David. Within a few hours, classes and work would end for many, and the café's regular patrons would overrun the small little shop for its drinks, sandwiches, and deserts. Too popular to ever host private bookings, even with Weiss's kind of money, one's only luck to enjoy the relaxed atmosphere of the café with virtually nobody else around was to come when nobody else could.
Exchanging after exchanging an amused glance, both Ruby and Weiss made to continue the sparing match with the witty David over snacks, and warm, sweet things to drink. But what made the two girls want to consistently come to the shop owned by the rather young man came to a combination of things. Perhaps the only person that ever worked there conformed to their definition of attractive, and perhaps the air of the café and its delicious foodstuffs made for a cozy home-like atmosphere. Perhaps the thrill of breaking school rules had its fun and flair, and the notion of having to themselves such a popular meeting place carried a level of satisfaction.
Truth be told, the well-spoken and dressed charismatic owner of this shop was a person of masks. Smiling, stirring, offering a golden laugh and distraction from the academic life of these students was nothing less than a well-rehearsed act. While the dark haired David surely wasn't a criminal in his own eyes, he stood to see himself as a well-rounded businessman. This song and dance for the two girls may at times become tedious, but meant that he would constantly have these two as loyal, very well paying customers in his quaint little shop of food and drink.
Another day in the life of a man who carries nothing but good intentions for his clientele, changing those masks according to whoever would want to pay him. A potentially flirty, always sunny waiter for those who want it. A good conversation, for the male variant of the previous customer type. Someone who didn't ask questions, and silently granted alcohol in the drinks for those who paid under the table during the daylight, followed by a change of hat during the evening. For the night, a variably lit bar of neutral grounds would always make a great place for the more experienced, discrete smuggler and information dealer to operate: these criminals were skilled at repelling suspicion, making for the best business David could ask for – The cut of all sales which David demanded was small, and acceptable in the eyes of the various dealers.
But that would be something for a later hour of this day. David would paint for these girls which were not too far from his own age, a unique picture that rewarded him with a unique place in the community. Not everyone could swing from both sides of the legal fence, and enjoy all the benefits.
"You've really become bold, for a self-employed serving boy. The only thing that saves you in the end, is that I'm the one owing money rather than you."
Weiss could make her accurate jests at David, and Ruby could satisfy her addiction to sugar. He would cater to their individual, random, unique orders and bequests for the deserts which he could prepare, and he would make whatever drink he needed to keep them paying and happy.
"Come on Weiss, be nice. He isn't Jaune, you can't exactly verbally abuse him as though he were a masochist."
After a morsel of chocolate cake and laughter, Weiss would answer Ruby's defense of the server.
"I wasn't sure about that masochist part myself, we need to test that one. Any ideas, that won't lead the idiot into more bodily harm than needed?"
As the two teenage girls began their sucrose fueled decent into gossip, David would continue to maintain his façade of interest, while resisting the urge to yawn. He would simply have to hold on until the evening, when things would overcome the drab inertia of day to day gossip, bland customers, coffee, cake, and hot chocolate.
With the evening comes an intoxicating force, of always unique faces, never legal exchanges, teenagers that really shouldn't be out so late, the buzz of alcohol in both its hard shots and gentle cocktails, the odd notorious visitor, and that entertainment which this all brings… The momentum of the night always overwhelms the cold sunlight.