“Both.”
“Both?”
“Yes. One of each. Please.”
Sam stared at him for a long moment, then shrugged and reached for two cups. “Okay. Two drinks. Coming up.”
Rux stayed at the counter while Sam worked, trying desperately to think of something normal to say. The weather had failed. The flooring had been catastrophic. What did normal humans talk about in coffee shops?
“How long have you worked here?”
“Three years.” Sam didn’t look up from measuring espresso. “Since the shop opened.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“It’s fine.”
The conversation died. Sam finished both drinks and set them on the counter with another polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Twelve dollars, please.”
Rux paid and picked up both cups – one in each hand. He drank half the cappuccino in three scalding gulps, conscious of Sam watching him with what looked like concern.
“Would you like to sit down?”
“No.” Rux finished the cappuccino and started on the flat white. “I’m fine. Actually…” He set down the empty cup. “What’s the difference between a latte and a flat white?”
“The ratio of espresso to milk…”
“Show me. I’ll have one of each.”
Sam’s professional veneer cracked slightly. “You want...two more coffees?”
“Yes. For comparison purposes.”
“That’s four drinks in about ten minutes.”
“I’m very thirsty.”
Sam opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, and then turned back to the espresso machine with a shake of his head. Rux caught him muttering something under his breath - probably questioning the sanity of his customers.
Ours,his dragon insisted happily.He’s talking to us and making us coffee. Such a wonderful mate.
The latte and flat white appeared. Rux paid. Drank them both while trying to engage Sam in conversation about milk foam density. Sam answered in increasingly short sentences, his smile now permanently fixed in that customer service expression that meantI’m being paid to be nice to you.
By the sixth drink - an Americano because Rux was running out of menu options - Sam set down the cup and didn’t immediately walk away.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Rux blinked. “What?”
“That’s six coffees in twenty minutes.” Sam’s professional mask had slipped entirely, replaced by genuine concern. “That’s a lot of caffeine. Like, a potentially dangerous amount of caffeine.”
He cares. He’s worried about us.
“I have a high tolerance.”
“Nobody has that high a tolerance.” Sam crossed his arms. “Seriously, are you having some kind of...day? Is something wrong?”
