Black is the Warmest Coffee

[Aster]

Lucille Lamikre cursed as she quickly regained her footing after being shoved in the crowded metro station. Passengers, all eager to rush to their destined locations be it work, school, mall, home or where ever, cared little for the dainty young miss who took her time boarding off the train. It was her first time taking the subway and being unfamiliar with such a multitude (in comparison to sitting lone in a car, driven to a university within walking distance) her clumsiness was to be expected. Despite whatever discomfort she may have felt in taking a new method of transport to class, it did not beat the satisfaction of stubbornly disobeying her father's order to take the car.


"Public transport is dangerous." He'd say, latter bringing up the probabilities (however low they may be) of car accidents when Lucille volunteers to drive herself to class. Having a driving license was pointless if she was to be driven to places by a chauffeur. It didn't take long for Lucille to rebel against her father's insistence, despite the well being in his demands. In a month's time, Lucille had successfully deterred from taking the family's car to taxis and buses, and now finally, the train.


Minus the one incident where she had dropped the heavy textbooks in hand on a man's foot due to the slight, unexpected shudder from the train, Lucille would say that her first ride on the station was quite successful. The fact that she had managed to do it all on her own made her beam with silent pride. A glance down at her watch told her she still had two hours before classes start: two hours to cram and soak up the necessary caffeine to sit through today's lectures. Lucille took this in with a hearty sigh and began her way towards her favored coffee house.


The rich scent of coffee beans and the quiet hum of the radiator, pencils scratching over flat surfaces, fingers tapping against keyboards, low murmurs from those on their phones. Minus the coffee, it wasn't much different from the other environments Lucille was used to. Her heeled boots made a soft tapping sound over the wooden floors as she made her way towards the register to order her usual.


She was hardly surprise to see a familiar face on the other side of the counter and rose her brows at the said individual as she made her order. "Vanilla macchiato. Less sugar, please."

 

[Beware the Boa]

Spoiler

((i thought i replied sorry ;; my internet is wonky so sometimes i think my messages have sent but they haven't))

Brandon sat in the back, sipping coffee too hot to sip and scrolling through pictures on his phone. Five minutes until his shift started was five minutes he was going to milk until the last second; he was not ready to deal with people yet. The night before had been a sleepless one, riddled with anxiety and nightmares. He still hadn't been accepted to any of the colleges he applied to, and he couldn't work in random coffee shops for the rest of his life.


"Your turn." the woman snickered as she came into the room, "Good luck, it's prime-time for hipsters." Her snickering was met with a tired scowl. "I hate hipsters." he muttered. The woman threw her apron at him, "You love hipsters!" she pushed out with a laugh. The laughter was contagious, and he let out a half-hearted chuckle before tying the apron on and going out to face the world.


He came up to the counter, watching behind him before hearing the familiar voice. A grin pulled at his lips as he looked, and there she was; Ms. Out-of-His-League was standing right in front of him. "Alright, name?" he asked, as if he didn't already know. He tapped the order into the machine, then looked back up at her, waiting for an answer.

 

[Aster]

Brian's grin was catching and Lucille found herself skillfully resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the unnecessary question. "Elizabeth. Queen Elizabeth," Lucille answered, straight face and all, "the second." This week Lucille was all on names of famous female rulers. Yesterday, it had been Constance the first, Queen of Sicily and two days before that it was Cleopatra VII Philopator. The fake names used were obviously given as a joke, a chide for asking and not remembering her name in the first place (being a daily customer and all), and a personal taunt; Lucille had yet to give this particular barista her real name. The others were well familiar with her and her orders.


She took out her wallet and placed the necessary amount on the counter, waiting for the receipt to be given before taking her usual seat by the window, not too far away from the register. The textbooks in hand were laid out on the table, each opened up to a specific page. A pen was drawn from her sling bag and its inky contents were scattered out on an empty page in scrawly letters forming copied words. Patiently she waited for her drink to be made so she could go and retrieve it from the counter.

 

[Beware the Boa]

((I'm not going to be able to reply for a while, something came up. I'm so sorry! ;; And yeah, it's Brian, I got my names messed up))

 

[Aster]

(It's cool! I hope things get settled soon on your side.)