74. At His Limits
Date Written: July 10, 2019
Date Posted: November 21, 2020
Characters: Veneziano
Summary: After a terrible meeting, Veneziano gets caught in the rain and stumbles upon a kind barista.
Notes:
Veneziano sighed as he walked out of the world summit. Everyone knew that the meeting was just another way to let off steam and list one's grievances for the millionth time. To even think that anything would get done was usually a newbie mistake—particularly for select humans who needed to fill in for their Nation if need be.
Regardless, Veneziano was tired.
It was that sort of tired that weighed down your feet, stooped his back, and had him blink wearily every few seconds. It was that sort of tired that only came as a result of a long day of too many interrupted speeches, useless documents, and presentation after presentation of dull international happenings that pulled at his heartstrings, but he could do little about. In fact, this sort of tired wasn't what Veneziano usually felt after a day of hard work.
As he walked through the streets of the host Nation, he could hear the telltale rumble of thunderclouds in the sky. Closer observation revealed that the sky was darkening as the sun was quietly devoured in lumps of grey. Were it any other day, Veneziano would have taken out his phone to take a picture of the scenery. Later on, he would use that picture as a reference for a new painting. Yet, it was not that type of day.
Today, as Veneziano looked at his phone for the time, a few droplets of rain fell onto the screen.
Curses fell out of his mouth as he rifled through his belongings for an umbrella. Unfortunately, he had packed only files and documents in his briefcase. Aside from the essentials, he simply went for a more light look. That was a decision that he now came to regret.
The rain was now increasing in quantity. More and more droplets fell onto his hair and suit; he can only imagine how bedraggled and dark he was now becoming with the unwanted aid of the weather. He hung his head low; that suit was one of his favorites and of a quality that displayed how expensive it was.
Veneziano wondered just how much worse could the day become. Not wanting to take a chance with fate, Veneziano quickly took a sharp right and opened the first door he came across.
Almost immediately, he was assailed by an employee.
"Sir, are you all right?" It was a young woman, a native to the current host Nation. She wore a name tag atop her heart and her apron was dark green in color. She stood behind a counter that had an assortment of sweets stacked like tiers on top of a platter alongside choices of whatever beverages a customer would desire.
Veneziano gave her a weak, but genuine smile. In a flattering tone, he answered as best could; he wasn't too knowledgeable about his host's language or customs.
"No… thank you… rain." He pointed uselessly outside, hoping to convey his message.
"Ah. We usually ask that customers pay for something to stay here…" Her voice trailed off uncertainly as she chose to speak in English, a language that he eagerly bent forward to hear better. "But, the rain chased away all of my customers. You can stay until the rain stops."
Veneziano nodded his head in appreciation. Then, he retreated to a table meant for two. Fortunately for him, the table gave him a clear view of the rainstorm outside. Out of all the things that had happened today, managing to seek shelter from a barista was the only good thing. Right now, he felt that his hair, normally straight and coifed, was an unholy mess of curls. Even the Vatican couldn't exorcise the evil in his hair. And his clothes! His clothes…
No matter, Veneziano will just deal with that later.
As he slumped over the table with a look of defeat, he could sense the barista approaching. Veneziano resolved to keep his head down on the flat of the table. As much as Veneziano liked meeting new acquaintances (especially a woman's gentle presence), that didn't mean he was up to the task right now. There was only so much false charm that he could muster.
He sighed. The meeting must have sapped him of all the flirtations and charms that he could have used right about now. He hoped to God and several other deities that he wouldn't take out all his frustrations on the poor girl.
Something heavy was placed on the table, causing Veneziano to blankly look up at his visitor.
"S-sorry, sir." A faint hue of pink colored her cheeks. Dainty fingers adjusted her small apron. "I thought that you would like some warm tea."
A towel would have more than sufficiently aided him, but he still nodded politely in her direction. It would be wise to keep any and all dissatisfaction he had to himself. The woman was certainly not one of his children and he was more than aware that he was not in his lands.
"Oh!" At the sudden exclamation, the Italian looked up from his beverage to the girl narrowing her eyes directly at him. "You're sopping wet! Why didn't you tell me?" After that exclamation, the woman scurried off to the back of the cafe to search for something.
There were a few crashes and sudden sounds. A part of Veneziano wanted to check out what the woman was looking for. Another part reasoned that the chair was soft and cozy… the beverage appeared to be of adequate quality… laying his head atop the table felt heavenly…
A wad of fluff was shoved unceremoniously in his face.
It was a pink, fluffy towel.
"Er…" Veneziano looked up from sudden gift to see that the woman was not only wearing a pair of purple framed classes, but also an expectant look. "Thank you." The words, foreign, felt strange and bulky on his tongue.
The Italian rubbed his hair free of the damp wetness from the outside and took off his suit jacket. They were minor things, but he felt a little better. The tea, though, was his savior of the evening. Sipping the tea even provided a wonderful experience. He wasn't too experienced with drinking the beverage (espresso was always his go to), but he could tell that there was hard work and quality put into the process.
"You're not from around here."
"Ah, what gave it away?"
The woman smiled slightly at him as she continued with her adequate English. With a slight cant of her head, she signaled that she would like to sit down in the chair that accompanied the table in front of him. Not wanting to appear rude (and he was already feeling quite rejuvenated from her administrations), he stood up and then pulled the chair out for her. That one action gifted him with the pretty little picture of his host delivering him a look of flushed happiness and pleasure.
Women. Such wonderful creatures.
And so, as the rain continued to drip down from the heavens, Veneziano and the young woman spoke of politics, of teas, and everything in between. It was perhaps an hour later when Veneziano felt his eyes droop, his eyelashes continuously brushing against the roundness of his cheeks. The woman chided him for overextending himself but allowed him to drape himself over the table. It was a crude arrangement, but there was nothing that could be done about it. Furthermore, the rain was still pouring outside, as if there were no stopping in sight.
As Veneziano cuddled into an even larger, rattier towel and was awarded with another complimentary cup of tea, he felt… He didn't feel as tired as before.
Yet, as the woman bade him to relax and that she would awaken him when the rain finally stopped, he closed his eyes.
And slept.
