Work Text:
Watcher’s Coffee was potentially the worst café in the whole of Portvale. No, scratch that, the whole of Hampshire. Hell, probably all of England.
Although, Judea said he’d had something genuinely akin to tar on a trip to the Lake District, so maybe not.
Still, that didn’t mean Watcher’s Coffee produced a single drink that could be deemed as anywhere even remotely close to passable.
And, despite the name, they served more teas than coffee.
But, Watcher’s Coffee survived. It had always survived, simply on the basis of being the only coffee shop this side of town. That had been the case since before Faith had gotten hired, and she’d never imagined that would change.
Well, until Greggs.
Home of the sausage roll. The lifeblood of every person who called themself even slightly British.
They knew they didn’t stand a chance. Greggs wasn’t a coffee shop, but they sold coffee, and it sure as shit was better than whatever Faith and Judea scraped out of the machine. And, even Judea liked their sausage rolls. Usually, he just point blank refused to touch anything sausage themed.
Which, if you were to ask to Faith, was weird as fuck.
Still. As much as she was relieved that the people of Portvale would be able to drink coffee that tasted better than petrol, she didn’t exactly want to lose her job.
Like, sure, her and Judea weren’t exactly paid much, and their manager was a huge dick- especially to his son- but it was nice. It was the same.
Everyone in the town had been to Watcher’s Coffee, at one point in their life.
Maybe she’d get a job at the Greggs across the street.