Tapping his cigar lightly, a bit of ash dropped from the tip into the ash tray.
"You certainly are prepared," muttered the man sitting at the counter. He took another puff from the cigar. Looking around, the costumer smirked. He liked the place. It had style. Style was good. He had to visit more often. Though, some consideration had to be taken, he shouldn't dwell in one place regularly…
"You said you had private booths?" inquired the man. The Barista nodded. He left his place behind the counter, motioning the newcomer to follow him. Meanwhile, said costumer had to admire the calmness of the owner. Even without knowing who he was, the barista hadn't even tried to sell him anything up till now. That means the man has patience.
Somewhat to the side of the counter, wine coloured drapes were hung. The shop keeper pushed them to the side, revealing a more private setting. Truth be told, it looked even more fancy and mysterious.
"I give you full marks on the ominous presentation of this little place," whistled the customer again. A smirk was drawn on his face as he stared at the booths. It looked like an office, but not like those grey booths of…well…full of bleach, lifelessness…just blech. No, it was ornate, the walls of the booth movable, apparently foldable thin wooden walls with beautiful carvings embedded in them. They stood tall, taller than the customer with his bowler hat even. Inside the boxes, red carpeted floors, some sported chairs, while another row of booths had taken a Mistraelian approach of seating cushions and smaller tables. The ones he could clearly see from the entrance were small, for four people…but further behind he could see larger booths, the crown jewel being a large circular table in the back with at least ten cushions at the floor to sit on.
"Full marks indeed…" muttered the man, placing his bowler hat absentmindedly on the hat rack.
"You seem impressed," noted the owner, making the customer chuckle. The guest looked past a cover here and there, taking a glance inside one booth while caressing the ornate markings of another with his black gloved hand.
"Oh yes, something I haven't been for some time now. This is just great, really! A breath of fresh air most certainly. Say, are these booths really private?"
"Yes, there was never any need for cameras and other technicalities. Rest assured that security for my guest remains my top concern, and is at all times ensured. After all, customers are a vital part of my business," replied the host kindly.
"Ah, that reminds me! What is the speciality this place offers? Here I am, perforating you with questions without showing my appreciation for the arts!" exclaimed the customer suddenly. At once, they returned to the counter, where the Barista answered. "We don't have one."
Staring dumbfounded for a moment, the smile on the customers face returned at once. "Well, then the most expensive drink please!"
"All wares cost exactly the same," replied the host, smiling gently.
"Come again?" asked the guest confused for the first time. Now wait a minute…no guests to speak of, he wanted to offer this store his patronage. It was a lot better than Juniors Bar, a lot less noisy and it had a similar isolated location. Even without knowing who he was, the store owner should have at least let out some startled gasp at his order…then he would have played the role of the rich benefactor while using this place as a centre for his operations. Honestly, he thought he could have honey-talked the owner and used this location instead of the sad, shoddy excuse of a criminal hideout the fire bitch offered. Amateurs all of them! Let's create a hideout which looks every bit the part of an abandoned place which is used for nefarious purpose. Really!? No wonder the children found the last one that easy!
"Seriously, how are you operating…" sighed the guest, not openly questioning the choice. He skimmed through the menu. A large menu. "What the…these are only the…recommendations for the night? You offer even more?!"
"Yes, our selection is quite the grand one. Please don't be unsettled, it is just store policy that we offer every person who steps through this door comfort for the duration of their stay. Everyone perceives comfort differently, and we try to accommodate people accordingly," stated the Barista confidently. A hollow laugh escaped the guest's lips.
"You are mad! But I say, your store perfectly scratches an itch I had for the last few months, so I will play your game. You say you are prepared for everyone, then by all means: Surprise me," challenged the man, grinning. He didn't know why, but it wasn't jeering by all means. He couldn't find himself to sneer at the lofty ambitions. He felt drained, tiredness hidden behind a façade of glamour and smiles. Perhaps this too…this too was a consequence of his new business partners.
"Very well Sir, I require one thing before I fulfil your order. Your name, please?" asked the man, as he turned around, his head lightly shaking from side to side, likely scanning his inventory of coffee beans and other ingredients he had stacked in those shelves. The guest's mouth opened, maybe it was the air of suspense or just simply because he was tired. "Torchwick. Roman Torchwick."
"Ah, then…I think…yes, I say this will suit your tastes," muttered the man, ignoring the elephant in the room.
"You manage to surprise me, truly you do. Normally, people run when hearing my name. Is my reputation taken so lightly these days because some brats managed to snoop around my business?" asked the crook downtrodden. The shop keeper smiled.
"With all due respect, I have stated one of the store's rules moments ago. All guests will be accommodated accordingly to their comfort. Now, I do not offer any cigars, yet a drink which is to your liking, this I can make!"
The confidence had a steadfast tone, one that if further questioned would likely offend the speaker. Mad. Just mad. This were the thoughts going through Torchwick's head as he rested his arms on the counter and observed the store for a while, letting his eyes roam the walls. The humming of the machines put him into a relaxing trance, one where he first began to realize just how tired he actually was. All that work and planning, running from place to place…it was exhausting. But what could he do, oh bother…what could he do.
Looking over the décor, besides the few exotic plants dotted over the shelves, some were blooming deep sky blue while others had a mellow red tone. There were books neatly stacked beside each other, here and there a nice little picture. All in all, the entire shop actually looked like it belonged to an antiquarian. Looking back at the strange owner, he looked at his apparel. His colours were actually rather subdued, blending in or even hiding behind the stronger colours of the store. He wore a white shirt, his trousers were the colour of sun-bleached sand and the apron the colour of his eyes, a simple grey. He was almost dull, yet that style made him strangely unique. Honestly, it had actually been some time since he had seen anyone normal, not wearing some ridiculous dress…really just a nice change of pace. Glancing over the man's shoulder, Torchwick expressed curiosity at what that man was concocting. The barista was mixing together coffee brewed from a Moka pot and adding frothed milk.
"A Latte? Really…" sighed Torchwick mentally. He had to say, he was a bit disappointed. He thought the man who had somewhat impressed him so far wouldn't be a let-down. His eyes wandered around the room again, trying to find something interesting to pass time. He didn't want to obstruct the barista with any small talk while he was making something so advanced, so impressive…not. No. No, he shouldn't be too greedy. It isn't like anything would ever go his way…
"Oh well…maybe next time the chap will be lucky, perhaps he serves me something interesting then…honestly, there were a few things piquing my interest on the menu already, maybe I should have ordered myself," mused the thief, throwing a wistful eye at the tea selection. He waited. And waited. The machines were still humming, rhythmically making him calm down again. Surprising. Maybe he should by himself a machine only for the whirs? He had doubt he'd make good coffee…but come to think of it, some models had style…maybe from a good brand…yes, for the next hideout perhaps. One of his choosing, if possible.
…
…
…
"It's a Latte goddammit, what is taking you so…so…hm. What is he doing?"
His train of thoughts derailed. It wasn't a white cup he was served. It was a rather tall glass cup, filled with something orange. It smelled like coffee. Something fancy. It had whipped cream on top, drizzled over the white topping was…was…
Torchwick simply took a finger, tapped the construct carefully as not to topple the mountain and tasted. Cinnamon! It was cinnamon. He glanced at the drink. It looked appealing. And the smell…certainly coffee, but something else was mixed with it.
"I present you… Pumpkin Spice Latte," announced the barista, nodding his head in a short bow.
Delicately, Torchwick grasped the cup. Taking another whiff, he set the glass to his lips and took a first sip. It was sweet. No sugar bomb by any means, no. Nuanced. Nuanced by a multitude of aromas. The pumpkin was unique in that combination…pumpkin and coffee. Pumpkin and coffee? Yes, pumpkin and coffee! It was a ludicrous experiment. It was just…just…
He took another sip, carefully swirling around the taste in his mouth. The spice added a wonderful richness, enhancing the strong coffee and the sweet milky aroma in ways he never had imagined. This was an experience. An experience he would like to repeat. To repeat and repeat and repeat. Torchwick closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. There was still a bit of his cigar fumes smoke in the air…giving a curious combination of scents. The old wooden floor, the brick walls…even the leather of the books…the nice sounds coming from the record player giving a soft jazzy melody…the humming of the machines. It all created a tune…a feeling…an emotion. He was calm. He just was. Not happy, not sad, not angry, not melancholic…he just was there. Now. At least for a short moment, he let that feeling flood him. It was like a soft embrace…with something. Something he never had and therefore never missed but now…
"The Pumpkin Spice Latte, it originally became popular just a little bit further north from the city of Vale. Truly, the Forever Fall Forest offers a spectacular habitat and is an experiment of nature. Not only is the sap of many trees rich in herbal flavour and well received in larger cities all over the world, the unique climate allows for a strange variety of pumpkins to grow there all over the year. Natural selection and evolution as well as Human…and of course Faunus hands have led to this. Strangely, only the general pumpkin is bought en masse by traders and many don't see a point to visit the villages such as Forlone, situated in the depths of the Forest, which leads to only small numbers of pumpkins actually grown. I think with all honestly, I might be the only importer of a great deal of them. Likewise, the drinks and ideas of those villages never found the masses, and this drink of my own creation is only available in my store…"
"This is great. Truly, I mean it. I take my hat off to you if I wore it. How?" managed Torchwick to say, deep in thought.
"I took a shot in the dark. But your persona seems to revolve around the symbol of a Jack O'Lantern…I thought it'd be a nice match. But I think I could do better. Just as there is a drink for every taste, no taste is ever limited to one drink truly. Exploring the experiences offered to us can open up whole new realities and layers of reality, the world and ourselves."
"Whatever you say. Please…do your thing," uttered Torchwick in amazement. He felt good again. He needed to go here more often…for health concern reasons. Too many pests going in and out around town these days.
"Then perhaps something lighter for the night. It is two hours before midnight after all."
"Already?" marvelled the thief. This place was magical.
"But…I really like the taste of coffee. And I probably have to work overtime for the boss lady anyways," argued Torchwick. "No, I'd like something strong. Something bold!"
"Strong…and bold…for the night…" repeated the barista, his eyes lighting up.
AN: A shorter but hopefully just as enjoyable Chapter :-)
CereysKerrigan: Thanks for the review!