Chapter Text
It was a rare occurrence for Neuvillette to be late.
He resisted the urge to curse - it was Furina’s fault, like it usually was whenever he was forced to deviate from his schedule - and focused on getting out the door of his home with a minimum amount of rumpling of his work suit instead. He barely had time to brush his teeth and wind a thick grey scarf around his neck. He silently thanked his former self for having had the forethought to organize the documents in his briefcase the night before, so he knew he wasn’t missing anything.
It wasn’t until he was very firmly on the subway that he thought about coffee.
The adrenaline had given him enough energy to get his things together and get out the door… but it quickly started to wear off, and he suddenly started to feel the weight of every one of his limbs, as though he were standing in thick mud. His head swam. His heart was beating faster than it normally should. The air in the subway chilled him to the bone.
He sighed.
Some caffeine would be nice.
Of course, he could just wait until he arrived at the Justice Bureau. It was like any other workplace - they had fancy coffee machines and vending machines - but the thought of drinking a cup made with pre-ground beans and barely-filtered tap water made him grimace.
He checked his watch. The subway jerked under him as it took a slight turn. He barely noticed, gripping the handle tightly with his other hand and shifting his weight between his feet.
He wasn’t that late. The subway had been earlier than usual, and he hadn’t been as behind as he’d thought.
He had a few minutes to spare…
Neuvillette stepped off the subway. He politely skirted around an old woman carrying a basket of groceries. He nodded approvingly at a group of three youngsters, two blue-haired young men and one brown-haired young lady, who were cheerfully engaging in the publicly artistic act known as busking. They filled the early morning air near the Justice Bureau with cheerful and relaxing music, even as their breaths crystallized in the cold around them.
He glanced around. It was definitely somewhere around here… the coffee shop he’s walked past many times but never entered. His coffee at home definitely tasted better, after all. There was no reason for him to purposefully go elsewhere.
But, today, situation necessitated. He frowned as he walked past yet another intersection. If Furina were with him, she’d be making fun of him for not pulling out his phone and doing a Felp search, but he’d never been good with those devices.
He felt his lips and the tip of his nose going cold. A sudden breeze down the busy city street stung his eyes. He was feverishly grateful that he had the presence of mind to bring a scarf.
Just as Neuvillette was about to give up and resign himself to mediocre office coffee, he spotted it out of the corner of his eye.
OSMANTHUS COFFEE - an odd name, he thought to himself, because surely one cannot make coffee out of osmanthus flowers. Wine, maybe, but not coffee. He pushed the door open. Immediately, a warm and luxuriously cafe-scented pillow of heated air enveloped him. It wrapped around his chilled fingers and made the ice crystals he swore he could feel forming on his cheeks just a moment ago into nothing more than morning dew.
The shop was moderately busy. There were two other people already in line. Neuvillette deemed this an acceptable wait and fell into place behind them.
“Good morning.” The barista greeted him at his turn to order. He was middle aged - maybe even older than Neuvillette, though it was difficult to tell, because his face and figure were both still youthful, and his voice was pleasant and smooth. His long brown hair, tied back at the nape of his neck, faded into a pale gold at the tips. He had a gentle smile and a relaxed air about him. Neuvillette frowned. He felt like he’s seen this man before. “What can I get you?”
“What kind of water do you use in the process of your brew?”
“Water?”
“Yes, water.”
“We have a commercial-grade water filtration system…”
“Hmm…”
The man continued to talk. It wasn’t very specific information, but there were people behind him waiting in line. Neuvillette had enough social decorum to know that interrogating the barista for much longer would inconvenience the other patrons.
“Alright. Thank you. One drip coffee, then.”
He squinted at the barista. He could’ve sworn he’d seen this man somewhere before. It wasn’t like him to forget a face.
He glanced at the man’s chest - he wasn’t wearing a nametag. The man followed his gaze and gave him a questioning look. Neuvillette turned away and retreated to the other end of the counter to await his drink.
He glanced around - the barista at the cash register was the only employee behind the counter, even during the morning rush. Didn’t this cafe employ enough staff to handle their volume of business? The lone barista flitted back and forth between the register and the coffee machines, which buzzed away on the tabletop, dispensing espresso shot after espresso shot. His earring swayed and caught the light as he moved, glinting golden against his cheek.
The barista started to walk towards him. The sight snapped Neuvillette out of his musing daydreams. He realized he was holding a cup of coffee in his hand - his order.
Instead of calling his name, the man passed it directly over the counter to him.
“Here’s your drink,” he said, with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. His pupils were a dark brown, but as Neuvillette watched, as he blinked, as his dark lashes grazed the tops of his pale cheeks, their depths belied swimming slivers of gold. How strange. “Thanks for your order. Please come again.”
Neuvillette opened his mouth and promptly forgot what he was going to say.
“Thank you,” he said, after an awkward beat of silence, in which he did nothing but stare into those strange eyes. “Maybe I will.”
He turned around and walked out. The cold air outside snapped in his face and brought him back to his senses - back to the real world, and away from the warm, glittering, coffee-scented gold of that strange shop.