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The slow noises of coffee being grinded and white-noise buzz of the Seven Association’s volunteer café were the only noises Faust could really take in right now. The smell of the tea she was brewing along with the clickity-clack of typewriters filled her senses, an all-too-familiar environment where she could comfortably focus.
At this moment, however, she was brewing tea for a particularly loud customer.
“Aye, lass, you finished?” Heathcliff spoke across the counter with a particularly patient voice, or perhaps that was because he was so invested in his work. As she glanced over, she could see a stack of papers he was making his way through, stamped or signed the neatest he could manage. At this pace, he’d only be able to finish half the task before his shift ends, but that isn’t her place to say, isn’t it?
She poured his tea gingerly, careful not to burn her hands, before placing it on the edge of his table. She was ought to show some courtesy, considering they were coworkers under the Seven, after all.
“Here is your milk tea, as requested,” She adjusted her glasses, careful to avoid nudging the cup of tea too far. Where she was standing, she could see his hair was tussled and messy. She almost reached out to touch it, but stopped herself before she could commit that disastrous lapse in professionalism, “Faust apologizes for the long wait. If you require any accompanying toppings, please contact the other baristas. Is Faust clear?”
“Aye. Crystal,” His speech was notably clipped, and he was still staring at his work instead of even sparing a glance at her, which caused her to raise a brow, but ultimately she filed it under things that were understandable, since he had so much on his hands. If he didn’t want to talk to her, he didn’t have to. After all, it’s not like they had any further plans today beyond her serving his tea as always. She had already done it plenty before, and she was not going to complain about it now, going back to serving other guests. Outis looked up from her place on the counter for a moment in inquiry, certainly wondering what Faust was so busy with, but returned to her work just as easily.
Once in a while, Faust would look over to his table in the corner of the shop, and find him leaning over his chair with a hand rubbing the back of his neck exasperatedly, pen tapping on his still-blank papers. Sometimes, he’d switch his position, from sitting with his back bended to crossing his legs, to leaning against the window, then slamming his face on the table at how much work he still had left.
“Ah, shite—“ It had not been half an hour since Faust last checked up on him, but Heathcliff was already groaning, both from the remaining amount of bureaucracy to sort out, and his cup already becoming empty. He shook his cup in disappointment. She dusted off her hands on her apron, before shooting a look over to him, tilting her head.
“Oi, what’s with the look, lass?” Despite already staring down at the stack of papers he was yet to even touch, he managed to be perceptive enough to raise a brow at her gaze. She half-expected him to curse at her, but perhaps the work had sapped him of enough energy already.
“If you’d wish,” She cleared her throat, “Faust may refill your tea?”
“Sure.”
When she went back to the counter, Outis shot a sideways look at her, before speaking her mind: “…Hasn’t that brute been here for over two hours by now?”
“From 7 a.m to 9 a.m, Outis,” she swiped her hair behind her ear, taking a cup from the cup rack.
“What can he possibly be so busy with?” Outis furrowed her brows, pouring some tea for another customer. Faust shook her head, and Outis sighed once more, but they settled back into their respective positions.
The clock continued ticking. The next time she looked up, it was already past 12. Faust swore he’d been there for ages by now, she’d served more than a thousand cups, and the stack of papers he had on his table did not seem to waver even a little. Did someone come in and give him more? Did he take time off when she didn’t notice? It was all an enigma to her.
Again, she chased off her questions and went back to her tea-making, already brewing some Ceylon tea leaves for another customer, but as her eyes scanned the room, she found the calendar at the corner of the café showed today was the 7th of July. Heathcliff’s birthday. She quickly turned back to look at him. She wasn’t one to excuse work even on special events, but the amount of work he had today, on his birthday, was even more demanding than normal weekdays.
Perhaps she should wish him a happy birthday. Speaking was an option, sure, but she figured it’ll probably only rub more salt in the wound, considering he was still working, to some miracle of the universe. Brewing more tea? No, considering the amount he was already drinking, he’d be drowning in it before the day ended. Going out to buy a gift? No, that’ll interfere with her work hours. Eventually, she decided on making him a pastry, something manageable.
Of course, before she could continued with that decision, she had to forward it to her superior. She nudged Outis, who was now chatting with Yi Sang over the tea they were making.
“South Section 6 Director Outis, would you mind taking some orders for Faust?” She tilted her glasses upwards once again.
“What has brought you to this request, Faust?” Yi Sang paused, looking up with the cup of tea he was making still in his hands. Outis turned around slightly too, to a lesser degree, still focused, but listening.
“Faust has noticed that today is Heathcliff’s birthday, and she wishes to spare a gift for him.”
“Perhaps you may ask him out for dinner?” Yi Sang recommended with a bright smile, but Faust shook her head. That’ll have to be after he finishes work, and who knows how long that’ll take. Besides, giving a gift to someone while they are struggling matters immensely more than giving them one when they are content.
Outis tapped her fingers on the table, causing both Yi Sang and Faust to become quiet from her authority, pushing up her glasses.
“Normally, I’d never accept such things,” Outis finally spoke up, adjusting her tie with a disappointed expression that caused Faust to subconsciously make herself slightly smaller, “but I shall make an exception for today.”
“You may go on. Make sure one of ours does not spend his entire day buried in paperwork. I shall take over your shift,” Outis crossed her arms, her expression unchanged, but her eyes softened.
Faust let out a relieved sigh, before rolling up her sleeves.
The next moments were simply her cracking eggs, pouring flour, or whisking ingredients. A standard cream birthday cake with strawberries, nothing she wasn’t familiar with. Despite being a café, the volunteers have all had some sort of experience with pastry-making, particularly Faust, and making birthday cakes, since those who could afford it in the City would pour to their reliable café. She considered fondant to shape the cake, but they didn’t have any currently. The piping bags were almost out, too. She’d have to issue a complaint after this.
Finally, she plated the cake with a layer of cream on top, and a single strawberry. While feeling pride at her work, a stray cup shot across, cutting a corner off her cake. Faust turned around in scandalized anger, but all she saw was Ryōshū smoking in the face of a customer.
“I. M. Y. D,” According to what Faust could gather, Ryōshū had served the customer their correct order, but due to her attitude, they had gotten so enraged, they launched the cup across the café. Worse, it had been shot right at Heathcliff’s head, who was unluckily in the customer’s line of sight. Faust really thought there was no possible way his birthday could get worse, but perhaps this was not yet rock bottom.
“ACK—! What the fuck?!” he gritted his teeth, rubbing the back of his head where he was hit, “What kinda shite’s happening over there?!”
Luckily, Yi Sang, ever the mediator, quickly stepped in with a heavy voice, quietly trying to speak to the customer, “…Be not so aggressive. It is not lightning that makes things grow, but rain. If you continue, we must regrettably escort you out.”
Ryōshū glanced at him with a raised brow, but said nothing.
Outis shot a glare at Heathcliff, knowing his instinct would make him escalate. The man, despite not having Outis as his director anyway, thought better than to try to argue with her and sighed, burying himself back in his work. Faust’s gaze lingered on him, but decided to continue brewing tea.
The clock strikes 7. A full twelve hours had passed, and through some miracle, Heathcliff jotted down his last period, and leaned back in relief in his chair. There were not many things he could brute-force, and bureaucracy was one of them. He considered throwing his fountain pen across the room, but decided to place it down lightly across his paper.
He already thought about blowing off some steam. Smash some smart-arses’ heads? Nah, even that satisfaction has started to dull. He can’t even fathom how some people do this for a living. Not like he’d quit, though, but so many clues are lost in translation, and he can’t explain a murder scene further than what his intuition and years of dealing with violence can tell him. It all feels so tiring sometimes, and he’s starting to feel listless.
Yet, as he looked up, he could hear the clinking of a certain white-haired governess’s cup. Faust sat down beside him with… was that a cake in her hands? And a wrapped gift?
He had to turn around for a minute. Ah, shite. It was his birthday.
“Have you finished your paperwork, Heathcliff?” She pushed the cake towards him, one which had a corner cut off in a surprisingly cup-like shape. He knew where that came from, for sure… But he just sighed, and pulled the cake closer.
“Aye, took a damn while, but yeah,” He took the silver fork at the side and dug into the cake, before taking a bite. Hm. It was soft, for sure. Really dedicated work. “Where’s that gift from? I haven’t seen’ya leave your counter for a second.”
“Ryōshū secured it while I made the cake,” Faust sipped her tea, “I had suggested that it’ll be a fair repayment after the incident with the customer.”
“…Aye. Thanks.”
“No need. Happy birthday, Heathcliff.”