The Last Coffee Shop

Chapter 5: All Good In Our Chicken Coops

Mads' throat was scratchy and her head felt swollen when she awakened the next morning. She'd been restless for hours, dreaming of crashing ships, dancing thieves, and overdraft charges. The latter was a likely eventuality, and the worry hung over her as she readied the store for another morning.

Krill was baking cinnamon scones, and the smell rejuvenated Mads a little. She even managed to whistle a bit as she made the coffee.

Mads' little bit of cheer was challenged as soon as she had made herself the morning Merica'no. Luc materialized behind her, startling her again (hopefully that wasn't going to be every time). He was still dressed in the ill-fitting clothes from yesterday, and he was barefoot.

Mads pointed this out before he could speak. "I don't tolerate sloppy dressers, and you'll need shoes if you want to be up to code. For now, you can use a pair of the shop slippers behind the counter. We use them for cleaning. Put those on before we go any further, and we'll see about getting you shoes that won't get us written up."

Luc's brow shot up, disappearing behind his shaggy hair. "You mean there are laws to regulate your shoes? What kind of a place is this?"

Mads frowned, "It's like Ithir that was. If you don't like it, just leave."

Luc dropped down on one of the bar stools, swiveling it in a slow circle before answering. "I don't have anywhere else to go. Isn't it obvious? If I could go anywhere, do you really think I'd be here?" His eyes were focused on her, green and intense and wide.

Mads stopped messing with the coffee and planted herself in front of him. He was much less threatening when seated, his narrow body folding in on itself, as if he was even awkward in his own space. 

Mads placed her hand on the bar beside him, spreading her fingers wide on the black veneer. The cool imitation marble had probably cost a fortune, but it had been put in by Mads' grandmother before she was born. "This is my home. This will always be my home. As long as you're in it, please don't disrespect it. I'm the one giving you sanctuary, after all."

Luc snorted, "Sanctuary. Do you think I'm in some sort of trouble?"

Mads met his gaze with a frown. "Of course you're in trouble. That's the only reason anyone would work a job for just food and board. And no, I don't care why, or how, you ended up here. I'm not going to pry into your business, as long as you keep your head down and help. And if anyone comes for you, I'll just tell them you're not here. But only if you're useful."

Luc shrugged. "Fair enough. So show me how to work that growly silver thing." He pointed at the machine she'd just been using, her coffee sitting disregarded beside it.

Mads fought a smile. "The coffee presser? It brews a small, strong coffee shot that makes the base for a lot of our drinks. It's vintage tech."

"A shot?" Luc cocked his head, "of coffee?"

Mads blinked twice, but Luc's expression was earnest, his brows wrinkled in confusion. Mads shook her head. "I guess we'll start at the beginning. Here, I'll show you." She grabbed the cup and press and held them up for Luc to see. "Come around the counter, it's easier."

When Krill came out with the scones, she found Mads in full teacher mode, Luc following along behind her like a large but docile puppy. Krill arranged the scones, then quietly went and unlocked the door.

Mads heard her and leaned over the counter. "As soon as Grandmere gets up, can you handle things for a bit? If Luc is actually going to work here, he needs to see more than just coffee."

Krill shrugged, all six of her arms going along with the motion. "Sure, no prob. I'm almost done with the pies." She paused at the threshold of the kitchen. "That Atelian pilot, Graynard, came back when you were at the meeting with Alan. He, Graynard, said that he was awaiting his own orders, and you can find him at the First Street junk shop. He lost no time in finding useful employment."