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[“This one too, please.” Charles didn’t even notice him coming back. The Red Bull can now on his counter is sweating onto the surface. He’ll have to wipe that up later. “This will be 54,16 please.” At least he can do this job in his sleep by now.]
[Sebastian squeaks when Charles plucks the cup out of his hands, puts it back on the counter and pushes him against the nearest sort of flat surface, which turns out to be the candy shelf. The sweets tumble down around their feet, but Charles doesn’t give a fuck when Sebastian’s clutching at him desperately, licking into his mouth like it’s the last time he’ll have the chance. He tastes like burnt coffee and sugar. Charles has never liked the combination more.]
