Who: Alex Chase [King Shahryar] & Bee Harmon [The Crow]
What: Bitching at Starbucks in the wee hours of the morning.
Where: Starbucks.
When: Backdated to finals.
Rated: PG-13 for definite language and implied innuendo.
Alex: There is no 'slow' in Starbucks. There are times when the tables are empty, save for scattered newspapers like seas of print across the armchairs and floor; when coffee cups linger in sad clusters, the cooling dregs soaked up by napkins stuffed into the white stamped mugs, and a green-aproned employee dances awkwardly through the last couple of people sitting with their chairs in the line of path, holding up a bulky bussing tray. During rush, there is no way for any of them to clear the tables; they are packed with hoardes of people, massing in from outside like a steady tide. He has only to look up to get a reeled off, memorised-by-heart order in all the jargon he was supposed to learn and never did - and his confused look as he pauses, black marker hovering above the container, ready to scratch on the heiroglyphics of a coffee-order - registers with a scrunched look of annoyance - he might take a few precious seconds and steal them away from their practiced morning routine. When it rains it is no different to the unflinching pace of people. The street outside is jammed with the round umbrella tops, and they fold themselves inside the door, shaking water all over the floor, shrinking as they cram in, desperate for their non-fat cranberry-orange-muffin and tall-skinny-no-foam-machiato fix.
He feels like a dealer at those times, crammed into the hot recess behind the great stainless steel machine that dictates these people's mornings. It's the only way to pretend a potency; the sixteen year old who works on Saturdays shows a frightening competency with milk frothing much greater than he. But when the stream levels out, and the thundering crash of people are gone, the ones that huddle around the end, whose hands peck sharply at each newly made coffee order, Alex can settle in and enjoy the monotony to a degree. He can go crazy sprinkling toppings on the coffee - he is All Powerful; Alex can make your creme brulee latte the most creme-y and brulee-y latte you'll ever experience if you've got a cute smile and look at him as more than another green apron, or he can reduce your white chocolate mocha to a very price-y warm milk if you're an ass.
So when a certain bitchy blond walks in with her own little posse, Alex is snapped rather uncomfortably back to the degree of helplessness and subservitude customer service involves, demarked by his very own little Starbucks shirt. He stays behind the steel coffee machine, working quietly, and then hands a chai latte to a woman who is wearing jodphurs in answer to fashion's siren call, with a big fat grin. She's hot, and she smiled.
Bee: To final year med-students on the brink of finals, coffee breaks are looked at more like godsends than brief respites to break the monotony of continual studying. For Bee and her friends, this Saturday had been spent like the six days preceding it - behind books, trying to cram as much last minute information in their heads without succumbing to the exhaustion. They alternated venues for the studying session, and as luck would have it, today they were at Bee's place. She didn't think twice before agreeing to make the starbucks trip for two reasons - one, that she desperately needed the break, and two, she honestly hadn't been expecting to see the southern jackass behind the counter. Over the last month or so she had gleaned that he was working there part time, and she figured the chances of him being there on a Saturday night were rather slim.
Bee was obviously wrong.
She spotted him as soon as she walked into the door, flashing that annoying smile of his to some random piece of flesh with boobs. He repulsed Bee to the point where she wanted to get violent; a trait she wasn't really known for. Something about this guy simply rubbed Bee the wrong way, and no matter how hard she tried, the head-butting was inevitable.
For the sake of her three companions, Bee plastered a painful smile across her face and stepped up to order once her friends had received their drinks and were seated at a table. It would be better for all of them if this stayed civil.
"Hi. Can I please have a Cafe Americana with an extra shot of espresso?" She pushed a few bills across the counter. "Thank you."
Alex: There are shades of hell that look like this; with a perky blond without the perk. Little Miss Harmon, he can tell from half-way 'cross the room when she's walked in with the helpful little kick in his stomach, all Tale-sense blaring. She marches herself up to the counter, and once again, he's left wondering why any gal would do that to themselves; blond hair that would look pretty all splayed out over a pillow, legs he knows are long like the girls back home, but she's not showing 'em off as is practically her duty, but all dressed up like a guy. It's practically an insult, and the snotty condescending expression on her face is one he'd dearly love to ignore. But he's on the clock, all punched in and paid to deal with the bitches that come out at night in search of coffee and sucking the blood of the young and pretty.
"No sugar'n spice in that there coffee?" he drawls, achingly aggravating with the Southern accent just dripping from his voice, "You not in need of sweetenin', Mz Bee?" He pitches it just familiar enough to be annoying, the moniker that of the old ladies at home, the ones who pinch cheeks and give kids apples as gifts. Damn, but he misses women who look like women. Pitched where it is, ninety percent of the females who walk through are dressed like academics; sweet curves hidden beneath black coats, black sweaters, black jeans. What the hell do they want to look like that for?
Bee: The only thing worse than having to stand in front of Alex Chase is actually having your body tell you he's right there. Damn that tale-sense of hers. She was feeling disgusted enough without the annoying tingling.
Bee had been treated to Alex's barista skills enough times to know the slop that was going to come out of his mouth before he even opened it. If experience was anything to go by, it would be a hokey comment about femininity delivered with a grating and overemphasized Kentucky accent. Alex managed to make even her Virginian Nana sound refined - a nearly impossible feat. And surely enough, her expectations were met.
"No thank you, Mr. Chase." The smile took a sweeter turn, as she wasn't going to play his little game. "I need the kick more at this hour than the sweetness." Unfortunately, in her hurry to respond, Bee didn't realize the possible implications of her words that he would be sure to catch.
Alex: "See now, I'm more'n happy to provide that, just you wait til I clock off," Alex smirked, all lazy words and wicked eyes. "You're right, Miz Bee, you don't seem like the type to want it sweet. I bet you're more of a thrashin' type." He summoned up the most innocent look he could, scratching at the three am shadow across his jaw, that hazed it dark in a scruffy sort of way. "One Americano, extra bite." There was no mistaking that.
Bee: Bee froze in place, momentarily mortified. She hadn't been prepared for the blatant sexual references, and had to regain her composure. She was on the brink of losing it, and nobody wanted to see her blow her head off at the Barista. It wasn't even the fact that he was making assumptions about her, but then again, maybe it was. He had no right to talk about her sex life at all, especially not in front her friends. At that moment, those very friends were what was stopping Bee from socking him in the jaw.
"I'm afraid I'll have to pass." Bee was speaking through gritted teeth. "You know, standards and all that."
Alex: "Don't think the Americano changes from store to store, sugar," Alex said, with all the innocence he could muster, and a pointed look at her chest. "Y'know, Miz Bee, I always wondered. Does that uptight, wannabe a man thing extend to not wearin' a bra? Because that, I could go for. Easy access an' all that, especially because pants come right off. Still the Americano? Or did you want somethin' with spice to get your night going?" Cue smirk, arms folded over his chest. "Them your friends over there? Some of 'em are real pretty - think they'd like a guy who knows what he's doin' with his anatomy?"
Bee: Alex Chase must have had a death wish, because there was no way he could reasonably expect to get away with something like that without getting his face punched in. Bee had done a remarkable job keeping her cool thus far, but when he began asking questions about her bra, that 'better person' thing flew right out of the window. She was seeing all sorts of red right now, and anyone that knew her could attest to how volatile she could be in that situation. Just ask the guy she had given the bloody nose and black eye for goosing her in a bar.
Bee's mouth drew into a line and she turned her head to her side and shook it. Then without a warning, she reached across the counter and grabbed the guy by the shirt and pulled him closer. "Now, you listen to me you stupid, smug son-of-a-bitch. I've had enough of your blatant suggestions and uneducated comments about my alleged masculinity or whatever the hell else you've got in that thick skull of yours. Enough is enough, and I'm done with this. I hope you're listening nice and well, because I'm only going to say this once. One more inappropriate word out of your mouth and I will break your nose. So think twice before you speak." She took a deep breath once she was done speaking, and pushed him away from her with the same had that had grabbed him.
Alex: Well that was a new way of saying 'not interested'. Last person who'd laid hands on him had gotten a messy sort of lesson in why that wasn't the best of ideas - and a long stay in a hospital bed west of Lexington. He was used to people not bothering; the attitude and the way he handled himself enough of a warning to keep themselves to themselves. 'Cept little Miss Bee had fewer muscles than he did in those little arms of hers, and she'd just near yanked him to death, grabbing on his shirt like that. Up close, while she ranted and raved, he'd gotten a look. Sure she could do with some improving; that blond hair would look a mite better not all ratty and her big blue eyes were all squinty with rage, but mad, she was hot. Inappropriate and unfeminine comments about nose-breaking aside - and that particular body part had been broken several times apiece, whether by a stray ball in a chukka, or by an unfriendly brother over his sister's besmirching.
"See now, if you'd put all that angry frustration to good use, Mz Bee, we'd end up ourselves with a party," he drawled, once again back to the 'I'm just an idiot Southerner, me' act. "Gotta be lonesome with your ...coffee." But he'd said nothing that was too easily picked up on security cameras, and had taken a prohibitive step back, boiling cannister of milk between them. "Sure you don't want any of 'em fancy flavorings and trappin's in there? Might sweeten your mood up a notch. Not that I'm implyin' anything in a bedroom sense," he added, in a stage whisper, "What with the sweetness'n all? Just thought I oughta clarify, what with you gettin' all tempermental."
Bee: Bee was going to hit him. Yep, that was it. He was going to get socked in the face, and that was that.
She was just about to deliver the punch when she stopped short for some reason. It was as though some warning bell went off in her head, and caused her defense mechanisms to kick into gear. This asshole wasn't like the other ones she had hit in the past. This one got under her skin, and that was dangerous. If she started hitting him now, there was no telling how far she would take it.
Letting out a frustrated shriek, Bee brought her fists down on the counter. "You know what, you're right. I'm going to go take my 'angry frustration' elsewhere." Complete loathing could be heard in her voice. "You're clearly too unintelligent too function, so just...." She paused and took a deep breath. "You, are a waste of humanity and my time. I'm done here." Bee pushed herself away from the counter and headed for the exit. "You can keep that coffee."
Alex: "Thanks, ma'am!" Alex called after her, a mocking taunt in his voice as he'd clearly won that little bout, and set to cleaning down the machine, whistling tunelessly through his teeth as he did so. Free coffee to pass onto the next chick who passed through that was all paid-for and cleared with Them Upstairs.