#Coffee Talk Episode 2: Hibiscus & Butterfly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muscari-melpomene · 10 months ago

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From the Grounds Up

Anti knocked back the rapidly-cooling remainder of his hot chocolate, and sighed with contentment as the remaining warmth spread through his chest. He washed the cup with quick, deft movements, and set it aside to dry. By the door of his shop, a large grey-brown mutt stretched with a groan. Anti whistled at it.

"Mutt," he called quietly, and the dog's ear twitched dismissively. Anti grinned.

Step back from this scene. Step back from the man behind the counter, leaning against it with his shoulders relaxed and his back straight. He's been standing like that a few months now, more at ease than he's been in his entire short life. Step back and look around his warm little shop.

The walls are exposed brick. There are plain wooden shelves set into it between two windows, containing a few trinkets and random decorations that took Anti's fancy. There are a couple small corner tables, and there is the counter with a neat row of seats at it. The shop smells strongly of coffee and spices, in the refreshing, comforting way that most cafés do. It is dark outside, and the dog by the door – Mutt, as we've learned his name is – is napping, utterly content with his lot in life.

It is dark outside, and the sun hasn't been seen for hours now. The café has only just opened. The sign outside that declares Coffee Talk cheerfully to the street flickered on at precisely 10 pm.

Step back into the shop, and take a deep breath of the warm, spiced air. You, and anyone else craving a warm drink and pleasant company, are welcome here.

Anti glanced up as the bell over the door jingled, yanked abruptly out of his thoughts. Damien was already hanging his long coat on a hook by the door.

"Evening, Anti," he called over his shoulder. Mutt dragged himself to his feet and snuffled over to Damien hopefully.

"You've got my damn watchdog rolling over at your feet," was Anti's reply, and Damien only smiled, reaching down to give Mutt a scratch behind the ear.

"You hear how he talks to me?" he murmured to the dog, "I'm his best customer and he swears at me the second I'm in the door."

"Henrik's my best customer, I could set my watch by the guy if I wanted."

"Henrik orders the same three drinks in rotation," said Damien as he slid into his usual seat at the counter. "You hate that." Mutt wandered to his spot by the door, and collapsed again with a loud sigh.

"Point," Anti conceded, "but at least I always know when he's coming. He'll be here in twenty minutes. You, on the other hand-"

He reached across the counter and flicked Damien's forehead, earning an offended noise as Damien swatted his hand away.

"-You haven't been here in a week and a half, D., what gives?"

"I've been busy," said Damien, as usual.

"With what?" asked Anti, as usual. Damien gave him a pleading look, and Anti dropped it. He was barely upset anymore anyway; the familiarity of the interaction soothed his lingering disappointment at Damien's long absence. Anti took a mug from under the counter and filled it with hot water to warm it.

"What kind of night is it?"

"The usual," said Damien, propping his chin on his hand.

"With your fancy-ass lavender in it?"

"With my fancy-ass lavender, yes."

Anti bit back a grin. Damien swearing in his calm, articulate voice always made Anti want to laugh, but the man looked tired, so Anti would hold back from any more mockery for the time being. Including reproaching him for having something as boring as a usual. Anti was feeling forgiving today, apparently. Maybe he should fix that.

He emptied the mug he'd heated, put a sachet of earl grey in it, and refilled it two thirds of the way with water just cooled from boiling. He hummed to himself as he let it steep, doing a few last checks that all of his brewing equipment was clean and ready to go for the evening.

The tea finished steeping, and he tossed away the bag before adding a hint each of vanilla and lavender syrup, stirring them in thoroughly before steaming a cup of milk and topping off the mug.

"A London Fog with lavender for his majesty," he snipped as he set the mug in front of Damien. Damien rolled his eyes, and took a long sip.

"...How do you always make it better than I ever can at home?" he sighed, setting it back on the counter. "It never tastes right when I do it."

"If I told you I'd have to kill you," said Anti brightly, and said nothing about how he'd narrowed it down carefully through trial and error, and Damien liked the drink best when the tea had been steeped just over four minutes.

"Mutt," said Damien, glancing back at the dog, "he's threatening me again. Sic 'em."

Mutt lifted his large head to stare at them for a moment, unimpressed, then set about licking his paws.

"...Impressive watchdog you've got there."

"He just doesn't think you're worth showing off for," Anti shrugged, and Damien gave him about the same look they'd just gotten from Mutt.

The door burst open, and a man with long hair half tied back and a satchel overflowing with notebooks and papers rushed in. He shoved himself into a seat at the counter, only avoiding falling out of it because Damien grabbed the back of the chair as it tilted, and hoisted the satchel onto the counter, half-emptying it in front of him.

"Ginger latte," he said by way of greeting, and Anti rolled his eyes and went to pull an espresso shot for the drink.

"Breakthrough?" Anti heard Damien ask as the machine grumbled to life and spat fresh grounds into a waiting cup.

"Maybe," said Marvin, "don't talk to me."

Anti tried to focus on making the drink, and not the anxiety coiling in his stomach. This happened at least once a month. Marvin was always having a breakthrough, always just on the edge of figuring out how to track down- well.

Anti wasn't thinking about it. He had a drink to make.

A small amount of fresh ginger grated in on top of the espresso grounds. Tamp it down. Pull the shot. Steam the milk and pour, and a bit more ginger on the froth on top because Marvin liked his flavored lattes to kick him in the teeth a bit.

"Drink up," he said, brushing a few papers aside so he could put the drink on the counter. Marvin didn't say anything.

"Marv."

"What?!" he snapped, looking up, then: "Oh- yes, thank you."

"Your shirt's buttoned wrong," Anti told him. Marvin looked down.

"Ah."

"When was the last time you slept, Marvin?" asked Damien. Marvin got that impatient look about him that said they were in for an utterly incomprehensible lecture.

"There are more important things-"

"Than your own health?" said Damien mildly, but Marvin had already started.

"-than getting my bloody eight hours- I am so close, so close to finding it, him, the escaped experiment- I finally got into the ruins of IRIS-"

"You what?! " snapped Anti, reeling back.

"I snuck in!" said Marvin, a deranged light in his eyes, "it was so simple in the end, and right there in the center of it was the site of the incident- the human remains there are mostly decayed, which is a shame, I'm no forensics expert, so I can't figure much out from it, but the magical traces remaining down there are- the energy is different from anything I've ever seen, if I can find a match for it-"

"That's trespassing, Marvin," said Damien, and Marvin waved a dismissive hand.

"Neither of you is going to say anything- but listen, this energy-"

"Marvin, for fuck's sake," Anti interrupted, a little louder than he'd meant to, "drink your damn latte before I scald you with it."

Marvin, miraculously, fell silent, staring at Anti. Damien was also staring at Anti. That was not what Anti had been hoping for.

The bell over the door jingled again, and Anti looked to it like a drowning man to a plank floating by.

"Henrik!" he called with visible relief, and Henrik raised an eyebrow at him.

"...hello."

"Oh, good," said Damien, "someone with sense- Henrik, come talk to Marvin."

"What's he done this time?" asked Henrik, hanging his coat up and sitting on Marvin's other side.

"I haven't done anything."

"Dumbass snuck into the smoldering fucking wreck of IRIS on- I'm gonna guess two hours of sleep?"

"Three," Marvin shot back, glaring.

"Marvin," said Henrik calmly, and Marvin realized his mistake. Anti stepped into the back as Marvin started trying to defend himself, doubtlessly only digging himself in deeper.

The store room door shut behind Anti, and he sunk to the ground, pressing a hand to his chest – breathe, Anti, breathe, in and out, nice and slow, don't hyperventilate, throwing up in here would be a health and sanitation nightmare, just breathe – and curling up in a little ball. The earthy smell of stored spices and herbs surrounded him, grounding him just a bit more.

Marvin was always having a breakthrough on one magical matter or another related to the incident at IRIS that had taken place eighteen months ago. Most people would have given up by now, but Marvin wasn't the type. The more he was told to let something go, the deeper he sunk his teeth in it.

And now he'd gone and broken in to what remained of IRIS. He'd found traces of energy there that he could study, something tangible to follow the tracks of. Something, if Anti had to guess, sharp and electric. Something made of dark, distorting strands woven into the form of a human. A man who was more solid now, more steady, less inclined to cut into someone and drain them to stay alive.

Who just wanted to be left alone.

Anti made himself look up, look around the store room. He ought to do inventory while he was here.

"...need more mint," he mumbled to himself, voice dry from his ragged gasping earlier. "Jamie'll be devastated..."

"-Don't want your help-" came an irate voice from outside, and Anti dragged himself to his feet.

On the edge of destroying Anti's life or no, Marvin was a fucking mess right now, and it was Anti's shop he was making that mess in. He really shouldn't leave Henrik and Damien to corral the whole thing.

Marvin was carrying on at full strength still by the time Anti reached the counter. Henrik hadn't raised his voice yet, but was starting to look fully annoyed rather than just exasperated.

"Doc," Anti cut in, "let me get you a drink for dealing with his shit."

"That would be lovely, thank you," said Henrik, shoulders relaxing a hair. "Coffee with honey, please."

"Coming right up."

"Now, Marvin," said Henrik, turning back to the scowling magician, "listen carefully. You're only going to make a mess of your research if you do it in this state- I'm not finished."

Marvin, who had opened his mouth to start talking again, shut it, and glared instead.

“Thank you. You will finish your drink, and let me finish mine, and then I am going to walk you home, and you are going to go to sleep for several consecutive hours."

"And why would I do that?" said Marvin, arms crossed. Anti set a sweetened coffee in front of Henrik, who nodded politely in thanks.

“These are a lot of handwritten notes on paper, Marvin," Henrik said, running a finger around the rim of his mug. "It would be a shame if something were to happen to them. Something... caffeinated, for example."

Marvin went a bit pale. Henrik smiled faintly.

“Which of us do you think has faster reflexes just now?" he asked, tipping his mug just slightly. Damien managed to turn a laugh into a cough, glancing away. Marvin's eyes flicked from his notes to Henrik's mug and back. A long, tense moment passed.

"...Fine," Marvin huffed, starting to tidy his notes away, "I won't get anything done with you here anyway..."

Henrik lifted his coffee in a toast, and took a long sip.

Time passed quietly after that. Anti spent his time bothering Damien, with Henrik chiming in occasionally and Marvin halfheartedly sketching complex diagrams in one of his notebooks. After a while, Henrik paid for both his and Marvin's drinks, and firmly escorted the insomniac magician out, giving Mutt a pat on the head as he left. Damien took a long sip of his second London Fog of the evening.

"That was a shitshow."

Anti snorted, and Damien grinned tiredly.

"Yeah," said Anti, smiling, "yeah, kinda was."

"Are you alright?"

"What did I tell you about worrying about me?"

"That it was annoying but cute."

"I never said 'cute'."

"Ah, but you did," said Damien, looking far too pleased with himself, "you said it while Wilford was here, and he reminds me of it daily. You really ought to know better by now."

"I should," Anti conceded, "but it's funny when Wilford teases you."

"I never said 'teases'."

"This is Wilford we're talking about."

That got a laugh out of Damien, and something in Anti's chest warmed at the noise.

"You have a point," Damien said. His smile crinkled his eyes at the corners. He pushed his empty mug across the counter, and Anti took it.

"Another drink?"

"No," he said, sliding out of his seat, "no, I really ought to be getting to bed... thank you, though. Have a lovely evening, Anti."

"Have a good night, Dames," said Anti, watching him go. He took his coat from its usual hook, patted the dog, and was gone. Anti stood there a moment, watching the door. Mutt yawned, and Anti shook his head sharply.

"Time to close up, I think," he mumbled, and went to wash out the mug.

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