Chapter Text
Ayda hates Mondays. It isn't because it's the end of her precious weekend (which she doesn't take off for anyway); she hates Mondays because of all of the bitchy, evil people who have reached the end of their precious weekend, and apparently don't have enough restraint to not take the frustrations of their sad lives out on the barista making them the coffee THEY ASKED FOR. They're loud and demanding and have stupidly long orders that definitely don't have the amount of caffeine these people think they're getting.
And it's so frustrating. Coffee and tea are her passions. They are scientific and precise, yet they can be used as foundations to create new drinks. She loves the warmth of a fresh cup of black tea and the cold, eccentric drinks that the café puts out in the summer. She loves the different uses for different herbs and flowers. These people don't give a shit about any of it! They need a pick-me-up on the way to jobs that drain the life out of them and, as they do, just be mean to anyone who so much as breathes.
She's half a second away from having a meltdown during the first quiet moment of her morning when the bell above the door chimes. It's funny, she thinks, how cruel the universe can be despite its randomness.
Ayda turns to the door and falters as soon as she sees the woman entering the café.
She's stunning. Unbelievably unique compared to the corporate losers that have been flowing in and out. The first thing Ayda notices about her is that she's not walking per se; she's dancing. Small, peppy movements as she nods her head to a beat playing through the chunky headphones on her head. The second thing is her bold makeup. Smoky reds with extremely intricate black lines and small gems both glued to her skin and shimmering at the end of several piercings. Ayda is completely entranced.
When she reaches the counter, she looks up at Ayda and smiles. It's sharp and toothy but still kind. Undeterred from the completely-neutral-or-maybe-slightly-aggressive expression that tends to be painted on Ayda's face (that receives many complaints from customers despite the fact that it's just her face). She slides her headphones off, and faint metal music plays from them.
It takes Ayda too long of a second before she starts her spiel. "Hello, welcome to the Compass Points. What would you like to order?"
"Ooo, um…" The woman pauses as she skims the menu. "Do you guys serve a dirty chai?"
"Definitely," she replies, and it dawns on her that this person has probably never been to the café if this is the first time she's seeing her. "Would you like to use your own cup for a twenty-percent discount? You can also purchase one of our reusable travel mugs, which will make this drink fifty-percent off and all subsequent drinks thirty-percent off when you use the mug."
The woman scowls. "Damn, I didn't even think of that. Shoulda grabbed it on the way out." She shakes her head and returns to smiling. "Nah, it's okay. I'll have to come back sometime and get one cause that's a really good fucking deal for coffee."
"And you want it to-go?"
She nods, and they do the whole payment exchange thing, and Ayda really only remembers how the woman gave her a fifty-percent tip and paid with a card that had rainbow fireworks on it.
She starts making the drink, stealing glances as the woman bops her head to the music in her headphones. She's starting to pull the espresso when a sudden "Oh!" breaks the quiet.
"Can I have extra cinnamon in that? Or would I have had to mention that at the register?"
She would have. They're supposed to log every extra addition—regardless of price—for inventory. But Ayda looks at her, then the cinnamon, then back at her, and says, "That's fine. How much?"
The woman grins, and if her normal smile was pretty, the pure joy in her face makes her irresistible. "Three dashes, if that's cool."
Ayda nods and continues to make the drink, stealing glances at the woman as she does. She's almost sad when she places the paper cup on the counter. "Here's your dirty chai." She almost doesn't realize that she stares at the woman's hands as she reaches for the cup, but she manages to tear her gaze away.
"Thanks a million!" The woman says as she cheers the air. "See ya."
"Goodbye. Thank you for coming."
The whole interaction is enough to fuel at least twenty more miserable customer exchanges before Ayda goes back to hating Mondays.