"Coffee, black, big as you got." the tall man in a suit ordered with a voice that sounded like it was used to get what it asked for.
When he had come in, he had looked around in surprise. The small café was cleaner than he had thought it would be, warmer too.
"You want a cookie with that?" the barista asked. With... mirth?. At five in the morning, that's just wrong. They were one of those. Tatoos, piercings, weird hair and clothes, where you get all confused about what to call them.
"I told you what I want." he grumbled, but he respected the hustle.
"I think you told me what you usually get." the pixie behind the counter said. "Let's do this: I make you something; if you don't like it, you get your coffee free; otherwise, it's double."
"I don't play ga..." the man began, then stopped. Maybe the warmth had boiled him soft, or the damn delicious smells had poisoned him, but he relented with a soft sigh. "Do your thing."
He had expected a fancy showing, a frothing of liquids, some spectacle to sell him, but nary a minute later, the drink that stood on the counter looked suspiciously like a tall, black coffee. He sipped, and his eyes widened.
"Wha...?" was all he managed.
"The magic of the orange zest." the pixie grinned and rang up a ridiculous but worthwhile price.
