Day 12; Favorite Drink

(Bebe / Eric)

"Can I have your holiday special, extra pumpkin spice?"

"Why, certainly." came from behind the counter, while a scoff came from the right of Bebe.

"Thanks." She responded, moving to the pickup counter. Looking around the coffee shop, she met eyes with Cartman. That's where that came from. Sure, she was in enough of a mood to indulge him.

"Can I help you?" She asked sweetly.

"Probably not."

"Here's your coffee, miss. Extra pumpkin."

Cartman rolled his eyes at the last two words. She took the coffee and sat across from him.

"Got something against pumpkin?" She slipped out between her sips.

"No, I've got something against you liking pumpkin spice and Ugg boots and everything else a white girl like you is supposed to like."

"Oh no. I happen to fit a stereotype. Please, save me from myself."

He scoffed, taking another bite of his croissant.

"And what about you?" Bebe said. "Is life really so much better rejecting and challenging everything?"

He didn't speak, instead choosing to stare at something behind Bebe. She took this as a victory, and decided to change the subject.

"Not that I don't enjoy you saying nothing, because I really do, but why are you even here? I'd figure a place like this would be too hipster for you."

"Yeah. Tired."

"Of what?"

The sounds of the shop echoed around them in place of their own conversation. Cartman's disgruntled expression and absence of words fascinated Bebe.

"Yourself?" she whispered. Well, it came out that way. The word got caught in her throat, but he heard. He tilted his head back and let out a sigh. An ache set in her chest. She didn't know what to say. Staring at him, an idea crept into her head. She pushed back from the table, her chair scraping the floor. Slamming her hands onto the table and spilling her coffee, she yelled "Some day you'll come down from your pedestal and see that I'm good enough, Eric Cartman. For now, I'm tired of your games."

With all eyes on them, she flipped her hair and walked to the door of the shop. Turning back, she called out "Let me know when you're serious." and left.

In confusion and not feeling like playing up to the murmurs of the customers and workers, he left after her. Exiting, he found her sitting on the nearby bench.

"What was that?!" he marched up to her, a brow cocked.

"You're not tired. You're bored. I'll play your game for a while, if you want."

She looked up at him, his expression stuck on confusion. Eventually, it relaxed into contemplating, then a smirk found his lips.

"We'll see how long you can last."