Chapter 3

(In which Seto discovers that hope may be 'the thing with feathers,' but that only makes it easier for it to fly away. And there's still no coffee.)

Seto stormed into the jungle that passed for Yami's office (there was not any immediately apparent sign of actual coffee in the office, though there was something that might have been a coffee plant flourishing in one corner) and snarled, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't murder you where you stand."

"Because Yugi will give you the Sad Eyes of Pure-Hearted Disappointment if you do." Yami didn't even look around from where he was giving his bonsai (named, if one believed the neat lettering on its container, "Buckaroo") a haircut with a tiny pair of silver scissors.

"...Fuck." Yugi's disappointed eyes were lethal, even to Seto. (And he put about as much stock in Yugi's opinion of him as he did in the sanity of Maximillion Pegasus. Which was to say, none.) If Yugi ever taught the Sad Eyes of Pure-Hearted Disappointment to Mokuba, Seto might as well sign the company over to the kid and take up crocheting.

Apparently finished futzing with his, frankly disturbing, indoor garden, Yami circled around his desk and took a seat in the decadent office chair he'd acquired from somewhere. He waved a gracious hand toward the visitor's chair facing him and waited until Seto had gingerly seated himself before continuing. "So, what brings you and your death threats to my door so early this fine morning?"

Oh, dear gods. How had Seto never noticed this glaring character flaw in his unwanted employee?

"You're a morning person!" he accused, in the same tone most people reserved for saying 'mass murderer' or 'Republican.' It was one thing for Seto to enjoy a quiet morning himself, but there was no need to be perky about it. Also, a perky Yami was somewhat more terrifying than the usual flavor. Since usual flavor Yami was terrifying enough to put the people who opposed him into comas, Seto felt justified in his horror at this development.

Yami blinked at him in apparent confusion. "And you... came here to tell me that?"

"What? No. I don't... fucking... that's not... gah!"

"Eloquent."

"...Shut up." Only sheer willpower kept Seto from pouting.

Yami gave him an amused look. "You're touchy when you're under-caffeinated."

And that reminded Seto why he was voluntarily subjecting himself to Yami's presence in the first place.

"Exactly!" He aimed an accusatory finger at Yami's face. "And why am I under-caffeinated? Because some asshole stole all my coffee!"

Very pointedly, Yami lifted a delicate, bone china teacup and sipped the pink liquid inside it. Seto scowled at him. Something about this picture wasn't computing... Finally, the relevant UNIVAC in Seto's sluggish brain threw out a punch card. (Ordinarily, Seto's brain was at least a Cray, but at the rate his brain cells were withering under his caffeine deficit, he was rapidly heading toward stone circles and knotted cords.)

Seto glared at the vibrant pink liquid as if it had offended his ancestors. (It was certainly offending his everything else.) The liquid was almost the same color as the frou-frou cabbage roses decorating the ridiculous chintz tea cup holding it. "That's not coffee."

"No," Yami agreed, taking another slow sip. "It's karkade."

"I hear there's a salve for that these days."

"Hibiscus flower tea," Yami clarified, ignoring the jibe and pouring a fresh cup from a matching rose-covered teapot. He set the steaming concoction in front of Seto, who glared at it. "Try it."

"I don't want tea-" Seto snarled the word like a curse. "-I want coffee."

Yami ignored him. "Drink your karkade. It's good for you. Calming." This was intoned rather pointedly. "It's purported to lower one's blood pressure if consumed regularly and in sufficient quantities."

Since Seto was fairly certain his blood pressure was currently in the stratosphere, he'd have to drink approximately an oil-tanker full of the stuff for it to have an impact. Fortunately, there was an easier, less tea-filled solution to his problems.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll give me back my Coffeenator 3000." Seto missed his Coffeenator. It was the limited edition, platinum version with programmable memory and built in milk frother. And a tiny Blue-Eyes White Dragon sticker that Mokuba had stuck on the back and that Seto pretended not to notice, while simultaneously dubbing the machine the Blue-Eyes White Coffeenator in the privacy of his own head. Feeling suddenly magnanimous, he added, "I won't even ask why you took it."

"That's very generous of you," Yami said, watching him over the rim of his teacup. He sipped placidly at his noxious pink brew.

Hope flared in Seto's chest. "Then you'll give it back?"

"No."

Hope crashed and burned, dying a painful, flaming death on the airfield of Seto's imagination. In a voice far too plaintive for his own comfort, Seto asked, "Why not?"

"Simple." Yami set his cup and saucer on the tea tray in front of him, then folded his hands neatly on the desk in front of him and leaned forward a bit, as if imparting some secret wisdom. "Because I don't have it."

"...I don't believe you."

"Nevertheless, it remains the truth. I didn't take your coffee making machine, therefore I do not have it to return to you."

"Ha!" Seto's hands clenched into fists.

"You seem very tense, Kaiba." Yami nudged the teacup of liquid pink hell toward him again. "Why don't you drink your karkade?"

"Why don't you finally make yourself useful around here and get me some coffee?" Seto shot back, and shoved himself back to his feet. Then he stood there, swaying slightly from the head rush and uncertain of where he had intended to go. Dammit, why hadn't he just stopped at Starbucks on the way to work? He was rich; it wasn't like even their over-inflated prices would have made a dent in his wallet. Also, he was going to fire the cook or the housekeeper, or whoever the fuck was supposed to stock his kitchen with coffee and had failed in that supremely important task, thus resulting in this morning from the deepest pits of coffee-deprived hell.

Yami reached out and, with the push of his index finger against Seto's shoulder, somehow sent him flailing back into the visitor's chair. Seto glared at him, which Yami blithely ignored (as usual).

The pink liquid was positioned in front of him once more. This time, Yami's tone brooked no arguments when he ordered, "Drink."

Seto snatched up the teacup, fully intending to fling its contents in Yami's face - and found that he had downed half the cup before he managed to wrestle back control of his traitorous limbs. He glared at his own hand holding the teacup, then shrugged and slugged back the remainder of the drink. In for a penny...

"There," said Yami, sounding smug. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Somehow both tart and sweet, like a tangier version of lemonade but without the citrusy bite, the karkade was actually pretty tasty. Seto would go to his grave before admitting this aloud, especially within the pharaoh's hearing.

"Whatever," he sneered. This time when he shoved himself to his feet, he made immediately for the door, hoping to get out of the room before his body betrayed him again.

"Leaving so soon?" Yami said, sounding darkly amused.

"There's a coffee thief somewhere in this company," Seto growled without looking back. "I intend to find them- and possibly feed them to the Blue-Eyes White Dragon." After they'd returned his Blue-Eyes White Coffeenator, of course.

"She prefers fish to human sacrifice," Yami noted casually.

For his own sanity, Seto decided not to ask exactly how Yami had come by that particular bit of trivia. "I'll take that under advisement," he drawled instead, and booked it out the door before Yami could force-feed him any more noxious (delicious) pink substances.