Chapter Text
You hate the cold.
That’s one thing that you’ve always been solid about. Chilly? Fine. A nice breeze on a hot day? Amazing. But the bone-chilling, moist air of the morning?
Yeah, no thanks.
You shiver violently and tug your thick coat around yourself even tighter as you walk down the street of Ebott city, at the grandiose time of 6:17. Not that you mind the time you have to wake up for work, being an early riser for most of your life. The city is mostly empty this time of day, save for other people like you who have jobs to get to and slave away at.
Speaking of which.
You pull out the keys to the quaint shop from your pocket, fingers growing a bit numb from the temp. The sign looms above your head as you walk inside, “Flora’s Coffee”. Simple, but that was common when it came to monster owned businesses. When you’d first applied to be a barista here a year ago, you were pleasantly surprised by how.. Nice? The owner was. She was a flower looking sort of Monster, released from the Underground almost 5 or 6 years ago now.
Monsters. Your opinion on them? They’re definitely an.. unruly bunch. Some of them sarcastic, some decent, and most of them just downright rude. But you couldn’t blame them. Not really. You’d probably be sour if you were trapped in a mountain for a thousand years, too.
Society had been open to their presence, surprisingly. For once, humanity seemed to come together on this one topic and let them integrate into society in just half a decade. Realistically, you would have expected it to take almost 20 years to even let them have their own ID’s considering how humanity could be. You would say points to humans, but honestly, you think it was just the correct thing to do. Even if some of them were very… open about their thoughts on coffee.
And you’d thought old men were sticklers about their caffeine..
Walking inside of the store, the smell of espresso, cookies and salty tea greets your nose. You’ve grown to love the scent over the course of the year, even if you were still trying to get a taste for the sea tea. It was strange, but God it did wonders for your ability to pump out orders.
Letting out a sigh, you get started on opening up the shop with a smile. Despite the cold morning and the semi-rude people..
.. You do, in fact, love your job. Surprised? Most people are.
“Alright.. Did Sam actually clean up the station this time?” You mutter to yourself, peeking around the counter to see the espresso grinder. Which is covered in coffee grounds and, in fact, very much not clean. You sigh through your nose, closing your eyes.
“Of course not.”
It’s fine. It’s fine, you tell yourself. It’s not like it really mattered, but.. The coffee will taste stale if they keep doing this. Unlike them, who treat the job like it’s a chore, you do actually care about the shop and its reputation. If people don’t like the coffee, then they stop coming, and if they stop coming, then Flora wouldn’t get as much sales, and then she’ll have to close down-
Okay, maybe that’s a little much. But still. It’s totally fine, you don’t care. You’ll just clean it up and continue on with opening the store. Flora always told you that you always let people get away with too much, but.. You really just don’t see the point in making a big deal out of it. Who knows what could be happening in others lives? Maybe their dog died and that’s why they’re not talkative. Or didn’t clean the grounds up.
After brushing up the coffee and wiping up the station, you move onto setting up the espresso bar; Clicking it on so it can warm up, getting the espresso glasses from the drying rack, pulling out and putting together the portafilters, getting the rag to clean the steam wand with.. You hum softly as you do all this, occasionally glancing at the pastry case to see if there was anything that needed to be made before it was time to open.
Just some cinnamon buns and cookies. A cinnamon bun actually sounds.. So good right now. You quickly shake your head, getting the thought out of your head. No! You barely have enough to pay for rent as it is, you can’t afford one of the magic food items of all things. Even if they are significantly better than human food, in your opinion. Damn. You need to stop this train of thought immediately.
When Monsters had finally been able to sell their own items, monster food quickly rose to the top as one of the most sought after foods on the market. And it made total sense. They didn’t spoil, it was popular for being a weight loss food for humans since they didn’t really have an organic essence, and they were magic. The magic part was mostly the reason they became popular, and it was after that that they started raising the prices on them once they saw just how much people were willing to pay for them.
You head into the kitchen to work on said items, popping the frozen pastries into a small cookie oven and setting a timer. After that, you set up the register- One part for human money, and another for G. The conversion rate had tripped you up for a while, earning you a few lectures from Flora, but you’ve got it down now. Since the buns are 25G, that’s about 5 dollars in human money. Basically divisible by 5.. Mostly. It’s a work in progress.
Turns out the “gold” used by Monsters was mostly pyrite, anyway.
You let out a breath and tie on your apron, a tan and light fabric covered with some rose designs, and do a final look-over of the store. Everything looks in order, so you smile and turn on your music- a generic coffee shop playlist on Spotify- and turn on the Open sign out front as soon as the clock reads 7 o’clock.
Being one of the smaller coffee shops around, there were pretty much only three employees, including you. The other two were Sam, and then Flora herself. During the summer there would probably be a temporary position to help out with backup, but other than that it was manageable with just one person behind the counter.
You hum to one of the songs as you set yourself up by the espresso bar, wiping off the counter just to feel like you’re doing something. It was nice. The shop itself was nice, too. The walls are decorated with some plants that are apparently native to the Underground, blooming and growing with vines that feed off of excess magic. That’s what Flora had told you when you’d first asked about them.
She was like a tough love grandma in the best way possible. She knew what she wanted done and in a certain way, and won’t tolerate any sort of disrespect. Sam says that they think she’s rude, but you understand where she’s coming from. There’s nothing wrong with wanting your business to succeed.. Especially in such a competitive field like coffee.
The sound of the door opening pulls you out of your thoughts, and you look up with a cheerful smile. It’s a monster, which isn’t surprising. Rarely humans come into Monster owned businesses, which is a shame really. They’re missing out.
“Hello! How are you doing today?” You lean against the counter as you look up at the.. Plane. It crosses your mind only once, but how would they even drink a coffee?
Your internal line of questioning is answered as soon as they start speaking, an almost cartoony mouth opening just below the tip of the nose.
“Um, like, it’s fine.. I want a small, extra hot vanilla latte.” She says, giving you what seems to be a judgy, but curious look. You think. It’s hard to tell since her eyes are kind of windows. Is she a lady monster, actually? You’re just guessing based off of the bow and her voice. Is that presumptuous..? Okay, never-mind that.
“No problem! I’ll get started on that, anything else for you today?”
“Um.. if I wanted something else, I would have told you. Just the coffee.”
Well then. You nod, keeping a smile on your face and not letting the comment get to you. Most Monsters were like this, anyway.
You get the shot of espresso ready along with the vanilla syrup, pouring it into the cup while you steam the milk in your other hand, getting it to 180 degrees- extra hot, like she wanted. You slide the to-go cup on the counter, then ring it up on the register.
“Alrighty, it’s ready for you. It’ll be 20G.”
She seems satisfied enough and drops the coins on the counter, then practically sashays out of the door with her coffee in hand. Wing tips. Arms? Ugh, you don’t know.
You gather the coins and put them into the register, sighing. It’s not like you expected a tip, anyway. Monsters didn’t really do that, since they paid their employees properly, but you doubt they would tip even if they didn’t.
You’ve learned to not really count on tips, anyway. You like your job, you live close by, and you wouldn’t change a thing about it. Even if the Monsters are a bit straightforward, in the nicest way possible.
You clean up the espresso bar, rinsing out the glass you used so that the coffee didn’t drip down and make the next one bitter. Looking out the window, you smile, watching the sun rise over the city.
Oh well. Here’s to another day.