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A Cool Old Man hangs out near Leblanc. Also an Annoying Middle Aged Man, but Rin more or less avoids him. The Cool Old Man, however, she hangs out with regularly, listening to cool music on his cool boombox. In spring or summer it's even more epic, while in winter it's painful. But that's what heavy coats and gingerbread biscuits are for.
“What are you doing, Rin? Why does it smell like Christmas in here?” asks Sojiro, when he arrives at his cafe one morning.
The aforementioned leans around the side of the kitchen wall, very mischievously, a big smile on her face, a big reindeer horned beanie on her head. “I'm baking, So-chan.”
A shiver so profound it stops him walking, afflicts Sojiro before he can make it past the till. “Don't call me that.”
“I'm baking, ‘Jiro.”
“That's better.”
“I made one in your image.”
“Funny joke, I don't believe you.”
A gingerbread man with a slick hairdo and a slick outfit dances its way into view.
Pain in his chest causes Sojiro to wonder if he's dying, and stress about what they're going to put on his tombstone.
🌟💖🌟
Most of the biscuits leave the cafe, much to the owner's secret regret. As occurs everyday, he wonders what Rin is doing whilst he's standing behind a counter. Probably handing out biscuits to all her admirers. It's not so special if everyone gets a gingerbread man or lady.
“You're looking a little flushed, chief. Are you alright? It is a bit warm in here.” proclaims his most annoying regular, the young man who thinks he's a critic or something.
“None of your business.”
“Tut tut. Alright.” the man looks around. “…Where's your lovely assistant this fine day?”
“None of your damn business. Ask about her again and I'll kick you out.”
“Gee, relax, Boss. I'm not here to dilly-dally with the ladies, I assure you.”
“You'd better not be. I'll kick your ass so hard you won't be able to find it.”
The mystery as to Rin's whereabouts and the status of the biscuit horde is soon cleared up by Pompous Customer though, when he leaves, and returns.
“Hey, chief. If you want to know where your assistant is, she's about fifteen feet down the street, listening to truly atrocious music. I think it may be hip hop.”
“What? Is she wearing a coat?”
Of course Sojiro goes bustling out the door, supposedly to check on the coat situation. He can't have his unpaid intern getting sick and impacting his business. That's his story and he's sticking to it. The sound of rap almost makes him turn back, however. But then he recalls the dancing gingerbread man that looked so much like him and his chest hurts again.
“Are you corrupting the elderly now? You'd better be wearing clothing appropriate to the weather.” he barks as he turns a corner into an alcove behind another restaurant. Those lines were more aggressively stated than he intended, but that's how it always goes when he's intimidated by a woman or his feelings for her.
Rin, sitting on a bench with an old man, a boombox, and an almost empty box of biscuits, looks up from the decapitated gingerbread man she's holding. It's a basic bitch gingerbread man, Sojiro is pleased to note. The old man presses the pause button on the gigantic CD player.
“Sojiro, it's you who’s not dressed for the weather, baby. Go home before you catch your death.” Rin crosses one leg over another, her grin devilish when her casual use of the pet name turns the man into a sanguine pillar of longing and need.
“Hahaha,” laughs the old man, who himself is as round and white as a snowball thanks to his coat and scarf and hat. “It's true, youngin’. That thin shirt isn't gonna cut it.”
“You're getting coal for Christmas!” a cheap threat, but Sojiro has to say something before he retreats. If he catches a cold Rin will be forced to nurse him back to health, because Futaba is incapable of it. He walks slightly slower than he would naturally. Still…he's gratified. Apparently the old man is in on the secret, or Rin otherwise doesn't mind speaking a bit more freely in front of him. Perhaps he ought to cultivate an acquaintance with him. Find out what he knows…
When the door of Leblanc opens and closes, the old man waits another moment before turning the music back on.
“That grumpy young sod is in love with you, honey.”
“I know.”