Chapter Text
They do not meet on a Tuesday.
It is a Tuesday when Hermann walks into the cafe, but they don’t meet. He goes in because it’s on the way to his new office - the entire mathematics department was moved over one block, and Hermann has no opinion on this beyond calling it a 'sub-standard idea' and 'idiotic' and various choice words in German, because the Head of Mathematical Sciences does not speak German.
Still, it’s pointless and awful and worst of all there’s not decent parking. He wants to write a letter of complaint, but knows he’ll probably forget between unpacking his boxes and arranging his grad students. Most importantly, the move has meant that the staffroom is not properly set up, and there isn’t a coffee machine. There isn’t so much as a kettle.
So Hermann walks into the first cafe he sees in the vicinity, and immediately regrets his decision. The cafe is narrow, three seats against one wall and a bar with several stools along the other, and at the end is a tiny bench and a giant coffee machine, and two rather large men are somehow crammed behind that bench. Two rather large men, and Newton.
Hermann doesn’t know his name is Newton. He does know that the man’s voice is too loud and too high-pitched and too grating as he laughs at something one of the too-big men says. The other folds his too-large arms on the very small counter and asks Hermann for his order. He gets a coffee with an extra shot, making it a latte at the last second because he figures he needs the protein from the milk.
He stands as much to the side as he’s able, which isn’t very much at all, and without meaning to ends up listening into a conversation had between three girls in dresses designed for much warmer weather. They’re talking about some poet, something about hyacinths and chess.
The place is awfully busy despite its size, but the man didn’t ask him his name and Hermann watches with some suspicion as the three men dance around each other in the narrow space behind the counter. The smaller one, the one with tattoos, grins at Hermann as he places a cup down.
"Yours, I think," he says. “Double-shot latte?” Hermann nods and tries his very best to leave without touching anyone. It doesn’t work. The place is too small, too loud, too busy. He hates it.
The coffee is very good, and the staffroom in the new building takes over a week to get set up. Hermann likes his tea, but in the morning he needs his coffee to get him going.
So he goes back.