A/N: Thanks so much for the feedback on the first part. This part is not as fluffy as that one.
Ambrosia
Part II: No Good, Very Bad Day
Since Roman's got a meeting Wednesday morning with Chris Jericho, he pulls on his sharpest gray suit - the one he Bayley says looks "killer" on him, and that he wears with a black shirt and white-striped black tie - and spends some extra time making sure his goatee is even, he hasn't missed a spot shaving, and that there's not a hair out of place.
Chris "I'm not old enough for you to call me Mr." Jericho is their first big - potential - client, a rockstar and style icon who's looking have a "rock as hell" office-slash-studio space built so he can add 'label owner' to his resume.
He came with a reputation for being kind of a primadonna pain-in-the-ass, but, even with Antonio admitting he was a little baffled by what "rock as hell" meant in terms of building design, Chris really hasn't been bad to work with. He'd thrown out enough ideas to get them started and been pretty good about getting back to them with answers.
Problem is, they're not the only firm trying to get Chris's business on this building.
Word has it there are three other firms in the city working on concepts for him - including Roman and Antonio's old firm - and it's a little frustrating. They're three of the biggest firms in the city, with three fairly well-known names attached to them, and while it's cool to be in the same conversation with them, odds are pretty good one of the bigger firms will get it.
Chris's assistant Adam had called late yesterday afternoon to schedule a meeting.
Adam wouldn't say what Chris wanted to meet about (whether it was to tweak the design or just to tell them Chris was going with another firm), but just the same, Roman's not going to be caught looking anything less than his best.
And, not that Roman's really trying or anything, but if Coffee Wizard likes what he sees, so much the better.
On his walk over to Ambrosia, he catches a few people checking him out, and it puts a strut in his step that hasn't been there in over a year.
(When he makes it past the first one, he surreptitiously checks to be sure his fly's zipped up and all his buttons are done up right. Knowing his damn luck, the day he decides to strut his stuff would be the day he walked around with his damn barn door open. It's all fine, though, so he struts on.)
Big Dog comin' through.
It's probably the way Superman feels some days, ten feet tall and ready to take on anything.
He pulls open Ambrosia's door and heads inside, noting immediately how much quieter it is inside today than it had been yesterday. Just the usual old guys right back by the doors and a couple people in a booth by the window, and one customer at the counter.
The customer's this wannabe perky blond who looks like she's in her maybe mid- or late thirties, and always flirts with Corey like crazy when she's here. She's pulling that same routine now, trying to be bouncy and upbeat, smiling and gushing on about how much she "looooves this place" in a way that sounds almost desperate.
Coffee Wizard's not doing anything but wiping down the area by the register and squinting over at her like he's not even sure what she's talking about. When he sees Roman approach, he looks over and says, "Morning."
"Good morning," Roman says, moving to stand in front of the counter.
"Well, excuse me," Blondie huffs, pushing past Roman.
"Yeah, have a good one," Coffee Wizard mutters without looking at her. He flicks his chin at Roman's chest. "All spiffed up today."
Roman may mentally fist-pump at that, but he absolutely does not think, Senpai noticed. Does not.
Damn Bayley.
"Yeah," he says, trying to play it cool, "I got a meeting with potential client today. Kind of a big deal."
"Gotcha," Coffee Wizard nods, and Roman suddenly realizes he's not the only one who'd spiffed up a little today. Coffee Wizard's long-sleeved Ambrosia shirt looks brand new, neat and for once not wrinkled all to hell. He'd shaved for a record third day running. The baseball cap is new, too, and there doesn't seem to be as much hair trying to curl out under its edges.
There's a little gold hoop in his left ear, too.
"I got something on my face or something?" Coffee Wizard asks, fingers drumming the sides of the register. It's a sharp question, a needle jabbing a balloon. "What are you lookin' at?"
Oh, real smooth. "Nothin,' man," Roman says. "Just never noticed your earring before. It's cool."
It's probably too much to ask for a hole to open up in front of the register here, he wishes one would anyway.
Coffee Wizard's frown clears, though, and he nods again.. "Yeah, I haven't worn it like five years. Somethin' different, I guess. Didn't mean to be an asshole 'bout it," he adds, leaning over the register. "I just - I keep gettin' stared at this morning, and it's like, 'Is there a joke or something I'm not in on today?' The fuck's everybody's deal? That bald dude and the chick over behind you haven't stopped staring since you came in."
"Bald-?" Roman glances around, and freezes.
Antonio and Bayley wave at him in a weird, smiley kind of unison, bright-eyed and cheerful.
He hadn't even seen them when he walked in, focused as he'd been on Blondie and Coffee Wizard.
As long as he lives, he will never, ever hear the end of this.
"They're staring at me, actually," he finally tells Coffee Wizard, whose frown clears. "Coworkers. I'll be right back. I'm just gonna-" go knock their heads together "-go say hi."
"I'll get your coffee," Coffee Wizard says, shuffling off for the rear corner.
"Just mine, thanks," Roman says. He turns away from the counter and double-times it back to Antonio's table, trying hard to keep his temper in check. "What the hell are you two doing here?"
"Enjoying an excellent cup of coffee," Antonion tells him in what's probably the world's worst attempt at playing innocent. Antonio has smug stamped into his DNA. He couldn't do innocence if he wanted to. "Enjoying the unique atmosphere of this little shop. I like the barbed wire. It's an especially nice touch. Very manly."
Bayley's closer to the window, and today she's wearing the sweatshirt with the rainbow and the Poptart cat-thing on it. She leans over the table and says, "And we're watching Coffee Senpai notice Big Dog. It's adorable."
"No," Roman tells her. He uses Boss Voice. That's how serious he is. That is how much he does not need this right now. "Hell no. No. You two need to go. What the hell is wrong with you, man?" he asks Antonio. "You know I'm-"
"When you came in," Antonio says over him, "I did try to wave you over, but you were in such a hurry to go chase that woman away from your coffee man that you didn't see us. I'm surprised you didn't urinate on the counter. Grateful, actually."
Roman pinches the bridge of his nose. Mostly to make sure his hand doesn't do something stupid.
Like punch that smirk off Antonio's face.
This has officially reached your mom catching you watching porn levels of embarrassing.
"You were so aggressive about it, too," Bayley says quietly, that giant blue sky smile in her voice. "All, like, 'Get out of my way, lady. He's mine.'"
Okay, no. No, now it's reached that level.
"I was not," he says, again breaking out Boss Voice. "I did not."
"We're just teasing, Roman, relax," Bayley says. "We did want to catch you before you got your coffee. Chris Jericho won't be coming until ten-thirty now, so since we have some free time, Antonio's going to take me to the apartment site. I need some pictures for a class project. We already got Tyler's coffee-"
"So you can take your time here," Antonio finishes for her. At this point, it would probably require a surgeon to remove his smirk. "There's no hurry, so enjoy your coffee. That was all I was going to say." He nudges Bayley's arm and climbs to his feet. "We should be going. Look like Roman's coffee is ready."
"Oh! Okay," Bayley says, sliding out of the booth behind him. "You'd better not keep senpai waiting. We'll see you later. Good luck."
"Yes," Antonio echoes, his smile warming. "Good luck."
Which is the thing that makes it hard to be that mad at them: they mean well.
It's just not comfortable, having them this close to his personal business when he's still not all that sure what the hell he's even doing.
This was so much simpler when it was just about the coffee, he thinks as the door swings shut behind his coworkers.
A quartet of well-dressed elderly ladies shuffle in and head for the counter.
Roman hangs back near the straws and napkins and watches Coffee Wizard make a thankfully quick, efficient transaction with them, passing across a tray of croissants and handing out their drinks with a quiet, "Thanks for comin' in, ladies. Have a nice day."
"Such nice people here," one remarks to the others as they shuffle off to one of the tables.
Coffee Wizard snorts, catches Roman's eye, sets a cup clearly marked BIG DOG down beside the register. "So were those two friends of yours or something?"
"That was Bayley and Antonio from my firm." Roman tells him, making his way back up to the counter.
He watches recognition flicker through Coffee Wizard's eyes. "Oh. Yeah, Corey mentioned something about that before he left. Wasn't paying attention. So why were they here? Not - y'know, not that they're not allowed to be, but…"
Roman shakes his head. "They're just killing some time this morning. Our guy's not gonna be here until a little later."
"Your big...thing. Client," Coffee Wizard says quickly. "Your client thing. You got all dressed up for."
"Right," Roman says, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting, Wanna see my big thing? Probably not appropriate. Yet.. "That client. He's late today, so they're off to get some pictures for one of Bayley's classes."
"I see." Coffee Wizard braces both hands on the counter and sort of leans over the register. "So what the hell was that thing on her shirt? I saw it when she was standin' in line earlier."
"Which thing?" Roman asks, honestly baffled.
"The cat?" Coffee Wizard says. "Looked like a cat swallowed a whole Poptart or something. And it shit a rainbow. I don't know. The fuck kinda acid trip dreamed that up?"
Roman leans casually against the pastry case. "Got me, man. It's probably something she found on the Internet, but I couldn't tell ya what it is. She's always coming up with stuff off there. Why?"
Coffee Wizard shrugs. "Weird thing to see on a shirt."
"Oh, that ain't nothing," Roman says, freeing his phone from his pocket. "Tyler - our receptionist - wants to be a model, and you gotta see some of the stuff he wears. Hang on." He opens his pictures and thumbs through until he finds the one of Tyler sitting at the reception desk in the sleeveless brown fur hoodie and matching boots with the long fringes. "Check this out."
After Roman slides the phone across the counter, Coffee Wizard leans over to look. His eyebrows disappear under the edge of his cap. "Oh, come on! What the fuck is that? Those boots look like the fuckin' car wash spinner thingies. Does he actually wear those in public?"
He sounds almost offended. Roman laughs quietly. "Yeah, he does. It's his thing. Adds a little color to the workplace. Actually, he's got a bunch of other pairs like it. A bunch of those hoodies, too."
"Why?"
"It's fashion, man."
"Ain't no fashion I'd ever wear," Coffee Wizard mutters, pushing Roman's phone back over. "You kidding me? Knowing my luck, I'd fall on my face 'cuz those fringe-thingies got caught in the door or something."
"Yeah, that's not my thing, either," Roman says. "I'm sure I'd manage to make myself look like an idiot. Getting it wrapped around a chair leg."
"Break my equipment 'cuz I got it wrapped up in there."
Roman's mouth twitches. "Can't have you breaking your equipment, now can we?"
He's never seen Coffee Wizard really smile before, but that's exactly Coffee Wizard does it now, bright and sly.
And he has dimples.
Of course he has dimples.
It's a really nice smile.
And he says, "Yeah, I'm pretty fond of my equipment. It's primo stuff, you know? Top of the line."
"That so?" Roman asks, smoothly for all that his pulse is thumping, the warmth in his face.
"That," Coffee Wizard drawls, slouching against the pastry case, "is so. I ain't had any complaints about my lever and dials. How I work 'em. You know? 'Bout you, big dog?"
Instead of answering the question, Roman shakes his head and snorts, "Big dog."
He really likes the way it sounds coming out of Coffee Wizard's mouth, gravelly and low.
Really likes it.
But Coffee Wizard's smile falls right the hell off his face. "What, you don't like that? Should I not-"
"No!" Roman says quickly. "I mean - yes. Yeah, it's fine, man. Sorry. Just no one's-"
"-call you that? 'Cuz it's just - fuck. Okay." Coffee Wizard backs away from the pastry case, face suddenly all boarded over. "I gotta go help Finn unload some trays, so. Shouldn't be standin' around bullshittin' anyway. I got work to do. Have a good day."
"Wait!" Roman leans a little over the counter. "I wasn't-"
Coffee Wizard shoulders the kitchen door open and disappears inside
Roman stares after him, dumbstruck.
This must be what it feels like to run headfirst into a brick wall.
What the hell just happened?
He looks around the coffee shop; it's still mostly empty, quiet and dim, some old punk song playing low on the speakers overhead. Doesn't look like anyone's really walking by much outside. Probably too much to hope someone's gonna come in so he can have a chance to salvage the situation right now.
But leaving it like this - no.
No way.
When he turns back to grab his coffee off the counter, he spots a Sharpie laying right next to the register, the barrel all faded and worn. It gives him an idea, and he glances around again, and smiles when he spots the cup hanging on the wall beside the napkins.
They're just small white coffee cups, but that's good enough.
He grabs one, uncaps the Sharpie, and writes, Coffee Wizard - Big Dog is cool. Not laughing u. Liked how u said it. It's more difficult than it looks, but he manages to get it all reasonably legible. After that, another thought strikes him, and he draws a down arrow, flips the cup so the bottom's up, and adds: Had no cmplnts abt my lever & dials either. -Big Dog.
This is probably the stupidest thing he's ever done, but as he sets the cup down beside the register and spins it so it's facing the kitchen, he doesn't care.
It's better than not trying at all.
With that, he tosses the Sharpie back down, picks up his own coffee, and takes off.
About an hour later, he's up in his office trying - and failing - to concentrate on entering window measurements into his modeling software when there's a tap at the door. "Yes?"
Antonio pokes his head in. "We're back."
Roman keeps his attention on laptop screen. "Okay."
"Hmm." Antonio lets himself into the office uninvited and shuts the door behind him. "That's not a happy face. How did it go?"
"What the hell were you doing down there?" Roman asks. It's rude and gruff, and right now he doesn't care. "Besides trying to embarrass me."
"If I were trying to embarrass you," Antonio says sharply as he sits down, "I would have stood up and said something like 'good luck with scoring your coffee man' loud enough for him to hear. I didn't say that. We didn't even talk to him. The other one was still there when we got our coffee. If you'd seen us when you got in, we would left right after I told you what was going on."
Roman closes his laptop and folds his hands on it. "You could have just texted."
Antonio's eyebrows pull together. "Is it so bad I'm curious about this man who has my friend smiling? It's been so long I wasn't sure you remembered how."
"I smile all the damn time, man."
"Not like you were yesterday you don't." Antonio leans forward, rests his forearm on the front edge of his desk. "It's not my place, I know, but forgive me again for wanting to see my friend happy. I'm sorry for this morning. That was not the best idea I've had this week, but we genuinely were not trying to embarrass you. If anything, we wanted to cheer you on." He clears his throat. "May I ask how it went, or should I just leave you alone about it?"
"Just say it ended with me writing an apology on a coffee cup," Roman admits ruefully.
Antonio's eyes widen with alarm. "What did you do? You didn't get us banned from there, I hope?"
Roman nearly chucks an eraser at Antonio's bald head. "Real funny, man."
"Who's joking? If you get us banned from having Ambrosia coffee, Roman, I'm afraid I won't be able to work with you any longer. There are just some crimes too horrible to forgive."
"It'd probably just be me banned from there, you know," Roman points out.
"Mm." The smile Antonio's been trying to hide surfaces. "That I don't mind so much. As long as I can get my coffee, everything is fine."
"Good to see my friend has his priorities straight," Roman says dryly. Good old Antonio. "Nah, it wasn't that big a deal. Just a misunderstanding. Thinking maybe this afternoon I'll swing by - when he's not expecting me - and try to clear things up." He squints across the desk. "You ever say anything stupid when you were trying to get Nattie to go out with you?"
"Nothing that required an apology before we even started, no," Antonio says, "but the first date, I spilled my wine all over her plate. Some got on her shirt, too. But it worked out. I let her borrow my jacket, and we shared my entree. It ended up being very romantic. Have you-"
There's a sudden, sharp rap on the door, and Bayley's voice drifts through. "Chris Jericho is on his way up."
"Oh, showtime," Antonio says, rising.
Roman smooths down his tie. "Yep. Here we go."
Chris Jericho is a compact, muscular blond guy who just looks like a rockstar in leather jackets with intricate stitching and stainless steel studs, ripped jeans, boots, and band tee shirts. His hair is carefully styled to look like he doesn't care, and so is his stubble. Shades that are probably more expensive than Roman's car cap off the look.
Roman had always gotten the impression that celebrities brought entourages with them, but Chris always shows up alone.
Today he rolls up with his hands full of a familiar black-and-white pastry box and a coffee carrier with the flattened-on-one-side anarchy symbol.
"Good morning, Summit Architecture!" he says. Sounds like how he'd greet an audience from the stage.
"Morning," Roman says from the doorway to the hall, and Antonio echoes, "Good morning, Chris," from beside Tyler at the reception desk.
Bayley'd gone to get the door for him, and now she reaches over to take the drink carrier and pastries out of his hand. "I can get those, if you want."
"Just grab the ones for you and Tyler there," Chris tells her. "I got the rest. And by the way, the dudes down at place I went said they know you guys. Said they knew what you'd want, so if they fucked it up, it's on them."
"We'd drink it anyway," Bayley says, turning each of the cups in the carrier, and eventually pulling out the two with her name and Tyler's on it. "Trust me."
"I wouldn't," Tyler huffs. "Not unless I knew it was dairy-free."
"Anyway," Roman says, ducking into the hallway, "Chris, you wanna head back to the conference room?"
"You got it, chief," Chris says. "I just need a few minutes."
"No problem," Roman says. He leads the way down into the conference room, and stands by the door while Antonio and Chris file in. Once they're arranging themselves around the table - Chris, predictably at the head - he nudges the door shut and heads over to sit across from Antonio.
Before Chris sits down, he extracts yet another coffee cup from his jacket's pocket. Roman's pretty sure if he tried that, he'd spill it everywhere. Chris's cup looks immaculate.
Antonio grabs his own coffee out of the carrier and a muffin out of the pastry box Chris had plunked down between them.
Roman takes the last cup and sets it aside without even looking at it. He's already jittery-wired as it is, and any more caffeine will probably shoot him through the ceiling. "So," he says, clearing his throat, "how's things, Chris?"
Chris sips his coffee and smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. "Moving along. You know. How 'bout you guys? Staying busy?"
"Trying," Roman says, since Antonio is busy chewing.
"Yeah." The chair squeals when Chris leans back in it. "I would've done this on the phone, but I felt like I owed you better than that. Here's the thing: I'm not using you guys on my office building. I was going to, but the thing is, my partner bailed on me for this record label, and I needed another backer. Can't afford to do all this on my own. My new backer is Vince McMahon, and the old buzzard told me yesterday I need to use his dipshit son-in-law's firm for the building." He rolls his eyes. "He wants it in the family."
"His son-in-law," Antonio says slowly, pushing the muffin aside. He catches Roman's eye. "Hunter."
Their ex-employer.
"Yeah," Chris says. "Look, Antonio, your design was fucking killer, man. You guys were by far the best to work with, and believe me, if I didn't need that old shitbag's money, I'd have told him to stick it up his wrinkly old dirt road. But business is business. But," he adds, sitting forward, "what I can do for you is put your name out there. I know a shit-ton of people, and if I hear of any of 'em needing to have something built, I'll throw them your contact info."
Rejection is hardly a new thing to either Roman or Antonio, but it's still a bitter damn pill to swallow, even wrapped in a cotton-candy promise like this one.
Especially knowing they lost to Hunter's firm.
Antonio says, diplomatically, "We appreciate that, Chris, and we appreciate you telling us in person."
"We do," Roman nods. "Any help getting our name out there is great, man."
More than likely nothing'll come of it, but there's no sense being ungrateful.
"Cool," Chris says. He bounces to his feet in a flurry of creaking leather and weird, manic energy. "Well, sorry to just show up and leave like this, guys, but I've got places to go and people to do. You know how it is. Rock 'n roll. So, anyway, enjoy the muffins and your coffee. Thanks again. Sorry about this."
Roman and Antonio both climb to their feet, and shake hands with him when he offers.
"We'll walk you out," Antonio says, but Chris waves him off.
"Not necessary, guys. Sorry again. But like I said, I'll try to help you get the word out. You're great. Antonio, people are gonna love what you bring them. Just - hang in there. Take care."
Chris hustles out of the room like his ass is on fire.
Roman looks at Antonio, and sinks back down in his chair. "So much for that."
"Mm." Antonio shakes his head and makes his way over to the muffin and coffee he'd abandoned. "Do you think this was on purpose?"
"You mean did Vince cut in on purpose?" Roman loosens his tie, and mulls it over. "If Hunter found out we were designing something, and went to Vince, maybe. But I don't know. Maybe Vince just wanted to get the planning and designs done for cheap. Either way, I don't care. It's over and done. Onto the next one."
It's probably not the last time they'll hear 'no,' either.
Dwelling on this, building up some kind of conspiracy theory, won't help, either.
Antonio's good at taking hints. "Maybe something will come out of this," he says, popping in a bite of his muffin. "These things have a way of working out. In the meantime, we've got enough to keep us busy. Let's just focus on that. Oh," he adds, pointing at Roman's cup, "I didn't want to say anything while Chris was here, but I think your apology may have been accepted."
Roman snags the cup so fast some of the coffee sloshes out through the hole in the lid, dribbles down the side, drips onto the table.
He completely ignores that.
What he finds on the other side of the cup is a rushed stick-figure drawing with a pointy hat on its head, a line coming off one arm that's probably supposed to be a wand, and a badly-drawn coffee mug at the end of the other arm. Underneath it, in barely-legible scrawl, is Damn right I'm a coffee wizard.
Beside the drawing is a little arrow pointing down, and when Roman lifts the cup to look at its bottom, he finds, I'm makin evryone call me that frm now on! -CW
Well, of course, Roman thinks, and he busts out laughing, because of course Mr. The. Best at Everything would insist everyone call him that.
"Care to share with the class?" Antonio asks. "I could use a laugh."
Roman hands the cup across the table, and Antonio snickers when he finds the note on the bottom. "You know, you may have just created a monster. I think," he adds, "you ought to go down there now. I think while you do that, I'm going to take a long lunch with my wife. Try to salvage some good from this day.
"Yeah," Roman says, straightening his tie again. "I probably should."
Why not?
It's not just about the coffee beans anymore.
Not by a long shot.
Feels better than he expected to admit that to himself.
Ambrosia's more-or-less a ghost-town when Roman heads in.
Won't stay that way long; he's passed by here often enough between eleven and one to know there's usually a lunchtime crowd, with people trickling in steadily for that entire two hours.
But for right now, all the tables are empty.
Corey's up at the register, leaning against the side of the pastry case, his back to the register. He's talking to a Coffee Wizard who's busy wiping down his espresso machine.
Roman's apology cup is sitting on top of it like some kind of weird, tiny upside-down hat.
"-idea there, boss," Corey's saying as Roman pauses behind him.. "I like it."
"Remind me to tell D-" He straightens suddenly, attention on Roman. "Hey, big dog," he says, and it's a hundred percent more friendly than the way he'd said have a good day earlier. "What're you doin' here? Your celebrity send you for more coffee?"
"No," Roman snorts. "He left already. Came all that way and bought us coffee just to tell us we weren't getting the job. They gave it to our old firm."
"That sucks," Coffee Wizard says. He drifts up to stand at the register. "Not that you got coffee, I mean. My coffee doesn't suck. But the other part really sucks. Sorry to hear that."
"Thanks, man," Roman says. He holds up his half-empty cup. "Yeah, your coffee definitely doesn't suck. That's why you're the Coffee Wizard. You really gonna make everybody call you that?"
"Oh God," Corey groans.
Coffee Wizard's eyes light up. "Fuckin'-A right I am. I might actually get - no, you know what?" He turns to Corey. "Tell Daniel I want a nametag with 'Coffee Wizard' on it. No. Executive Coffee Wizard. Or Chief Coffee Wizard. No. Executive. Executive Coffee Wizard. I want a nametag that says that."
Roman nearly chokes on a laugh at the look Corey sends Coffee Wizard. "That mean you're actually gonna start dealing with customers when they want the manager?"
Coffee Wizard stares at Corey like he's crazy. "Have we met before? Am I really the guy you want dealing with pissed off customers at six-thirty in the morning?"
"Good point," Corey concedes. "We'd probably have half the cops in the city in here before seven."
"Six forty-five, probably," Coffee Wizard says. "You know, tip jars can be good for bail money."
"I don't even wanna know how it occurs to you to think things like that, boss," Corey say, shaking his head. "Roman, it's been two hours of this. Thank you so much. Really. No. Seriously. Thank you. So, so fucking much"
Roman can't find it in himself to feel bad, not with Coffee Wizard's dimples showing. "Anytime, man."
There isn't a better antidote for a shitty client meeting than this.
Anyone standing ten miles away could've heard Corey's put-upon sigh. "Boss, you really want a nametag that says 'Executive Coffee Wizard' on it?"
Coffee Wizard rubs his chin, shrugs, and says, "Make it 'ECW.'"
"E-C-Dub, huh?" Roman says. "You a fan?"
"Watched it every week when I was a kid," Coffee Wizard nods. He's bouncing on his toes, an excited puppy being offered a ball. "Did you?"
Roman nods. "Sure did, man. My dad was big into that stuff when I was a kid, so that was our thing. We watched it all. WCW, WWF, ECW - you name it."
"What's-?" Corey shakes his head, clearly baffled. "What are you guys talking about? What's ECW?"
"It's wrestling, man," Roman tells him. "Hardcore stuff. It was, anyway, before WWE bought it out and ran it into the ground."
"It was really cool," Coffee Wizard adds, grinning. "All these super angry dudes just beatin' the shit out of each other. And they had a dude who crushed beer cans on his forehead. Sandman. I loved that guy when I was a kid. He was awesome."
"Yeah, that sounds real awesome," Corey says, shaking his head. It doesn't really sound like he thinks that's awesome. And Roman's not really sure it was that awesome, but if it makes Coffee Wizard smile like that, then awesome it is. "Anyway, my work here is done. I'm gonna go back and help Finn...do...stuff. So ECW on the nametag, then?"
"Fuck yes," Coffee Wizard says. "And what do you mean your work here is done?"
Corey's gaze flicks over to Roman and back. "My work up here is done. I'm going in the back. So you can talk to Roman."
"Big dog," Coffee Wizard corrects him. "I'm Coffee Wizard and that's the big dog."
"Okay, this is getting fucking weird," Corey says, throwing up his hands and heading for the kitchen door. "I'll get your nametag ordered, Coffee Wizard. You two keep talking wrestling or whatever. Or, you know, maybe think about setting up a time and place outside of work to do talk about that. Like on a specific date? You know?"
With that, he lets the door swing shut behind him.
Roman suddenly finds the cracked front edge of the counter too fascinating to look away from.
It's one of those annoying and awkward moments he'd been hoping like hell to avoid.
More people trying to push instead of letting them figure this thing out their own way.
Coffee Wizard's the one who finally breaks the silence, muttering, "Jesus fucking Christ."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I've seen billboards that were more subtle than that," Roman says. As irritating is was, though, it did leave a big opening, and he can't see a reason not to go for it, so he tears his attention away from the cracked wood settles it on Coffee Wizard. "Got the right idea, though. We should go to dinner some night. Or get drinks. We could talk about wrestling or where you get your coffee or - anything you want. Maybe even our equipment. I'd be down for that. What do you think?"
"No," Coffee Wizard says, shaking his head. "Thanks, but no thanks, big dog."
That was supposed to be an easy slam-dunk yes, considering they were right there just a couple hours ago; now Roman's not even sure what to do with that 'no.' Coffee Wizard's already backing away - deja vu - and there's not much Roman can do but lean over the counter, try to stop him from getting away again.
"Hold up," he says in his sternest Boss Voice. "Talk to me, man. Why are you saying no?"
He's seen walls with more expression than what's on Coffee Wizard's face right now. "I've told Corey a hundred times I'm not interested in one of his fucking pity dates. Not even with you." He's right by the door. "Sorry you got dragged into this. Excuse me."
Of course he's too big a chicken shit to wait for Roman to actually get the words 'It's not a pity date' out, backing into the kitchen just exactly as he had before, and leaving Roman alone in the empty shop.
It might have been a bad idea, listening to Corey the other day.
Leaving this alone in the comfortable 'what if' pocket seems like it would have been the less frustrating choice.
Right now, he's not sure he if wants to kick a hole in the counter or punch a hole in the wall more.
This time there's no Sharpie on the counter beside the register.
He's not sure what he'd write this time, anyway, and after the morning he's already had, he doesn't really have the energy to think of anything. All he really has the energy to do is loosen his tie and undo the button at his throat.
After one last quick look around Ambrosia's dive bar insides, he heads for the door, leaving the cup with the stick-figure Coffee Wizard abandoned on the counter behind him.
Maybe it's for the best.
A/N: Oh, boys. So close, but so far away. One more part to go.