001: Introductions - kinda? Halt/Crowley?

Crowley sat at his window seat, knee jumping up and down as he waited for his mark to walk by. The street wasn't that busy, not with the storm that was coming, but there were those persistent few still on the sidewalk, making their way to their destinations before the sky broke. Crowley took a sip from his coffee, smacking his lips in appreciation. What fantastic luck it was that he could stake out the street for his mark in his favorite coffee shop. They even had his favorite seasonal flavor: pumpkin spice.

In front of him, behind the few tables separating him and the door, the bell rang, announcing another customer to the bored high school kid that stood at the register. Crowley looked around him, noting that it was just him, a silver-haired woman, and the high school cashier that were in the shop. Now, though, a short man with dark hair and beard walked up to the front counter, eyes scanning the menu above the kid's head. There was some muttering from the new person, but eventually Crowley heard him ask, "Do you have just a dark roast? Nothing fancy like mocha or machi—maki? Macchiatos? No, I just want a dark roast, plain coffee."

Smiling to himself, Crowley looked back to the street. He could hear the high schooler and the customer talking, their voices fading into the background. The person he was looking for was supposed to have come by an hour ago, but Crowley had remained in the coffee shop with the storm blowing in. He had a feeling someone had tipped the man off, warning him off of going the route that Crowley watched. It didn't matter though—they knew where he lived. Crowley had let his superiors know, and another team were working on finding him. His job was done for the day.

"That'll be $2.50, sir," the cashier said, uncapping a sharpie and picking up the cup. "Could I get a name for your order?"

"Halt," the newcomer said, hand going to his back pocket for his wallet. The kid wrote the name in loopy handwriting, setting it down next to the register. Halt froze, but then moved his hand to his other pocket. And then his jacket pockets.

"Shit," Crowley heard the hiss from his spot across the room. He saw the woman in the corner look up, a severe frown on her face at the word that had come from the stranger's mouth.

"Is there a problem, sir?" the kid at the register said, eyes looking him up and down. Halt didn't look to be trouble, Crowley noted, but the kid still held onto the cup and had a hand on the register as they waited for the cash. Their eyes went to Crowley in the corner. They didn't know him that well, but the kid knew that Crowley was some kind of government agent and carried a gun. Their eyes flicked back to the man in front of them. "The coffee's $2.50."

The man at the counter hesitated, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. "Someone nicked my wallet," he grumbled, a hand going through his messy hair. Crowley couldn't help but notice more and more details about the man, something oddly familiar about the way he held himself. He wore a majority of dark colors, with a strong preference for black and dark green. He wore black pants, a dark green jacket, and what looked to be a gray sweater underneath the jacket. His army boots looked worn, wet from the puddles on the sidewalk. There was an odd looking tattoo just behind his left ear, partially obscured by his hair.

The high schooler immediately looked uncomfortable. They glanced back over to Crowley. "I'm sorry, sir, but unless you can pay, I can't …"

Halt waved his hand, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry, I'll just—"

"Just put it on my tab, Ash," Crowley called from his spot, waving at the kid. "It's just $2.50."

With that, before Halt could agree or disagree, the kid nodded, snatching up the cup and turning to fill it with the steaming liquid. A few other movements behind the counter, Halt standing there awkwardly, looking between the cashier and Crowley in the corner.

"One black coffee," the kid said, placing the cup on the counter in front of Halt. "Sugar and creamer are at the tables."

The stranger hesitated, looking between the kid, the cup, and Crowley. "Do you have honey?"

The cashier nodded, "Also at the tables. Enjoy!"

Halt picked up his coffee as the kid ducked around the corner into the back room, probably to refill something or to collect their composure. He hesitated again, only to walked directly towards Crowley. He paused a few steps away. "Thank you," Halt said, his voice low and gruff.

Crowley smiled, shaking his head. "Can't go without your morning coffee," he said. Then, he motioned to the empty seat across from him. "My name's Crowley."

Halt stared at the seat that Crowley had just motioned towards. He sat down, placing his coffee on the table in front of him. "I'm Halt," he responded, nodding his head as he studied Crowley. He popped open the lid and picked up the honey bottle from the middle of the table. Crowley watched as he squeezed the bottle.

They were silent for a few minutes, sitting across from each other awkwardly. "I can pay you back," Halt said, "I'm … I'm traveling, right now, but I'll replace all my cards eventually, and then I can—"

"Don't worry about it," Crowley murmured, leaning his cheek against his palm. "Like I said, it's just $2.50. Either way," Crowley shrugged, "If you're traveling, how would you manage to pay me back?"

The man across from him was silent for a moment as he stirred the honey into his steaming cup. "I … I could give you my number?"

Slowly, Crowley smiled. "That'd be nice, actually."