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Thomas had visited almost every coffee shop in the surrounding area. When he had first moved to the city it had been an obvious decision to give the nearest coffee shop a chance. That hadn’t lasted long. Only two days later and a map of every establishment within forty minutes of travel hanging on his wall. Each time a shop would refuse to serve his order it got furiously blacklisted on his map. The spreading circle of black scribbles tempted Thomas to just make his own coffee, but there was something about the power struggle that kept him in the game. A large black coffee with seven shots of espresso, a shot of cinnamon flavor, and three energy packs was a completely valid request, and Thomas deserved to be served it when he went stumbling into town far too early.
This week he was exploring that border of still a relatively reasonable distance to travel for coffee and definitely out of his way shops. Today’s establishment was a hole in the wall place called A Fighting Chance. He had only been able to find traces of it online because of some YouTube videos of a musician who apparently played there sometimes. Standing outside the front, Thomas could understand why it wasn’t too well known. The shop front was entirely brick with only a small window on the door that was occupied mostly with an “open” sign. The name of the place was painted on the wall instead of hanging on a sign. Between the faded paint and the surrounding graffiti it was difficult to tell that the painting was a purposeful decision to “help” people want to go inside. Overall, it looked more like a place where you were likely to get stabbed for asking one question too many than a cafe to sit down for a nice cup of joe. Didn’t change the fact that Thomas was running lower and lower on options in the city. With a sigh and a glance at his watch, he pushed the door open.
Well, he hadn’t been entirely wrong. The tall man behind the counter looked like he was ready to murder Thomas as he analyzed him from behind the counter. As far as he could tell, the rest of the room was completely empty. Other than the glaring man waiting for him to step up to the counter, though, the shop did look pretty nice. The brick was left exposed but the different hanging lights lit the area warmly. There were drawings of the city dotting the walls and chairs of all different styles and designs littering the open space next to tables that matched just as little. It seemed cozy despite the lack of coordination and the initial skepticism.
With his order memorized already, Thomas spared barely a glance at the small collection of pastries and muffins in a glass container as he stepped up the counter. The man in front of him didn’t seem like the kind to care for pleasantries, so he just rattled off his order with all the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
“7.15,” the barista said in a voice that was much softer and calmer than his apprehended would suggest. Thomas paid in whole, of course. Only once he was able to find a secure location to acquire his life blood could he start haggling for the price. And things were going smoothly so far. He didn’t want to hope soon or give the barista any reason to deny him his fully reasonable request, though.
The man gave him his change from his tenner and spun around to start the drink. Seeing as there was no one he would be holding up behind him, he folded his arms on the counter and leaned forward to make sure the, still shady, man was making the drink correctly. It was a happy surprise when the man completed the drink without a single change of expression on his face. He handed Thomas the drink with a short “Careful, it’s hot.”
Thomas gave him a touch of his hat in thanks and turned around. He could swear that he could still feel the man’s eyes boring into his back all the way until the door slammed shut behind him.
As it turned out, A Fighting Chance quickly grew to become his favorite coffee establishment. Thomas could give the man behind the counter literally whatever insane order he felt like he needed to properly interact with the world and never have to explain his actions. He didn’t even have to face that slight widening of the eyes of the he used to get from even the most customer friendly establishments.
Of course today he had been called in to work before anything other than the busses were still living. As such, he stumbled into A Fighting Chance at half past two in the afternoon with a pounding headache and dying for anything to wake him up.
For once, there were people other than him in the shop. A few people littered the tables, the display case of pastries was almost empty, and he actually had to stand in line before rattling his order off the usual barista. The man turned to make the drink, and the calmness of the shop was interrupted by a stern voice.
“Excuse me,” the voice interrupted, “did I hear that oder correctly? Seven shots of espresso with three energy packets?” The barista hummed in confirmation without interrupting his movements. A straight backed woman with black hair cut into a bob and piercing eyes rounded the corner from the back room of the cafe. She was wiping her hands on a rag that was then tossed on the counter. With one hand on her hip and the other supporting her weight on the counter, she leaned towards Thomas. “You must a new customer. We have a strict four shot limit and only one energy packet when combined with espresso. For health reasons.”
“Well, Ma’am,” Thomas tucked one hand into his pocket, “I’m afraid that I’ve already paid, and it looks like me drink is done.”
His barista stood at the register again with the capped cup in his hand. Thomas let a smirk spread across his face as he reached out for the concoction. A hand snatched it from the barista’s grip before his hand reached the destination.
The woman had a serine smile stretched across her lips, her eyes remaining steel. Without a waver, she turned the cup upside down over the nearby sink. The steaming coffee streamed out for an entire silent thirty seconds. She dropped the cup into the trash bin beneath the counter and spoke with the same calm yet stern tone. “We have a very strict policy when it comes to the combination of energy packets and espresso shots. Please allow us to make you a new drink.” She tilted her head to the barista. “Benji, one black coffee with four expresso shots and one energy packet, please.” The man, Benji apparently, turned as normal to start making the drink.
Thomas felt his teeth grinding in the back of his mouth, but refused to be the first to let the smile slip. “I’m afraid that is not my oder, Ma’am.”
“As I said, we have a very strict company policy.”
“Hmm, refusing a customer’s order doesn’t seem like very good service, especially for a customer who has already paid.” Thomas raised one eyebrow with a slight tilt to his head. He leaned his embowls on the counter for good measure.
Without missing a beat the woman replied, “We’ll throw in a complimentary fruit cup for your inconvenience.” Her eyes roamed Thoma’s body and face in a way that would have made him shiver if he wasn’t already solidly focused on this game. “Sir.”
She turned to where Benji had returned to his position. The coffee was taken from his hand and passed to Thomas without her gaze ever leaving his.
“Have a wonderful day, and that you for visiting A Fighting Chance.” In the time it took him to blink and secure his grip on the cup, she had given Benji a clap on the shoulder and disappeared back behind the racks of supplies. He adjusted his grip and left the store. This was a game he refused to lose.