Chapter Six #2
“Yeah.” Sam measured out espresso carefully. “It’s been really sunny today.”
It’s been really sunny today. Because of course it had, because anyone with functioning eyes could see the blazing sunshine outside. What the hell is wrong with me?
Rux’s dragon was no help whatsoever. He was too busy basking in Sam’s proximity.
“Very sunny,” Rux agreed, because apparently his mouth had decided to operate independently of his brain. “Excellent sunshine…for October.”
Sam’s hands paused - just for a second - before continuing to steam the milk. “Mmhmm.”
The espresso machine hissed. Foam rose in the metal pitcher. Sam’s fingers wrapped around the handle, and Rux found himself staring at those hands. Compact, capable, with a scatter of freckles across the knuckles.
Focus.
He needed to say something else. Something that didn’t make him sound like he’d never experienced weather before. His gaze dropped to the floor.
“These tiles are really nice.”
Sam stopped. He actually stopped what he was doing, pitcher in hand, and turned to look at Rux with an expression that suggested he was trying very hard to figure out if Rux was actually real.
“The...tiles?”
“Yes.” Rux was committed to it now, he had to keep going. He gestured vaguely downward at the honey-colored wood planks. “Very well maintained. Good choice. Really brings the space together.”
“They’re laminate,” Sam said slowly, the way people spoke when they weren’t sure if they were being pranked. “From the hardware store in Cheltenham.”
“Excellent craftsmanship.”
“Craftsmanship? It’s...laminate.”
Rux could feel heat creeping up his neck, his dragon purring contentedly because at least they were talking to their Treasure, even if the talking involved complimenting the flooring.
Sam turned back to the espresso machine, pouring the shots. He added them to the pumpkin spice syrup before topping everything with steamed milk and an excessive mountain of foam because Rux had asked for extra.
The silence stretched. Sam concentrated on the drink with intense focus, as if it required all his attention – or, perhaps, he was very carefully not looking at the large man having some kind of breakdown and was talking about his floor.
Rux scrambled for something – anything - to salvage the situation.
“Do you work here often?”
Sam’s shoulders tensed. He set down the milk pitcher carefully before reaching for a lid.
“Most days.” The words came out flat. “I’m here most days.”
Of course he is. Rux knew that. They’d been watching the café for over a week, knew Sam’s exact schedule, and knew he opened four mornings a week and covered afternoon shifts on the others.
“Right.” Rux’s hands flexed. “That’s...consistent.”
“Very.” Sam snapped the lid onto the cup and turned around. His smile was definitely not the bright smile offered to the previous customer. It was polite in the way that meant please leave now. “One pumpkin spice latte with extra foam. That’ll be four dollars fifty.”
Rux paid and took the drink. Then he stood there in the middle of the café with a pumpkin spice latte he didn’t particularly want, his dragon still chanting possessively while his brain scrambled for a reason - any reason - to stay longer.
Sam had already turned to wipe down the espresso machine.
“I’ll have another.”
Sam’s hand stilled on the steam wand. He glanced back, one eyebrow raised. “Another pumpkin spice latte?”
“No.” Rux set down his full cup. “Something different. What do you recommend?”
The professional smile flickered back into place, though Sam’s eyes held a trace of confusion. “Well, the cappuccino is popular. Or if you want something stronger, a flat white…”
“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.