Coffee for As(c)h

[igiko]

Everyone thinks coffee shop meetings are quaint. Between the sweet aroma of the coffee in the air and the gentle piano music lulling people into a pleasant mood, there's no reason to believe otherwise—except there is.

Everyone goes to the shop to grab a cup of joe, right? Before that, some people are unbelievably cranky like this guy, who's fuming at seven in the morning as one of the shop's two currently sole occupants of the shop. Okay. To be fair; that fancy, pressed shirt of his has been doused in the color of deep brown coffee since the moment Zenitsu spilled the guy's order in the middle of passing it off.

Listen, not everyone is born with beauty and grace. To expect either or both all the time is simply unfair, okay? Sometimes his hand has the habit of slipping. Sweating is a part of normal human behavior. He isn't graceful at all, okay?

It's not okay.

The guy's entire inner being is quivering in cold fury. There's no such thing as two negative making for a positive. One negative of incurring the wrath of a client does not become positive with his preternatural sense of hearing that only ever picks up on sounds of dissatisfaction. It just doesn't work that way. Zenitsu watches in silent horror as the guy frowns at the dripping cup on the floor before couching down to pick it up and scrutinize the writing on the plastic.

"There's a c," he says curtly.

"Huh?"

"In my name." He chucks the cup at Zenitsu. "You stupid idiot!"

The cup bounces off the front of Zenitsu's apron, staining it with droplets of the coffee's remains while Zenitsu squeaks in fear.

"I'm sorry!" he cries, shielding his face with his arms. "Please forgive me! But how was I supposed to know that when there are so many ways to spell your name? Cut me some slack here!"

"You stained my clothes!" shouts Asch.

"What am I supposed to do about that? I'm a broke student. Your shirt looks expensive; I could scrub it in the sink for hours and have nothing to show for it in the end. Also, we don't serve exhibitionists!"

Asch inhales sharply to stop himself from jumping over the counter and killing Zenitsu where he stands. It would be so easy, nor is it an exaggeration. Zenitsu's ears hear the killing intent in the enraged lub dub of the very angry heart in front of him. Luckily for him, Asch spins around on the heels of his feet and storms out of the shop instead, barking, "Forget it!"

Well, now he feels a little bad. Sighing, Zenitsu tosses the cup bearing the name Ash in the waste bin, grabs a dish cloth, and rounds the counter to wipe off the mess he's created when he spots a card on the floor.

A terrible chill travels down his spine. He snatches the card up and throws the shop door open, but there's no sign of Asch nearby. Anger has a way of carrying people to faraway places at record speed. Sweat gathers in his palms as Zenitsu looks down at the debit card that Asch was holding and dropped during the unexpected splash.

But he evidently held onto the scone he bought with the coffee, so who's the real idiot here, huh? Stupid!

Gulping down his fear of what might happen come lunch time, Zenitsu pockets the card, pats the material of his pants to make sure that he hasn't lost it already, then slinks back into the coffee shop that may or may not be a funeral home by the end of the day.