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"Nah, it still counts," he said with a polite smile, slightly less forced than it normally would've been. Benny noticed the way the barista was already writing down her order, and he knew instantly that she was a regular. He had to know, it was ingrained in him as a member of the service industry himself. Hell, he'd probably done something just like that a million times, pouring drinks before someone even made it to the bar to order. Regulars were special, and he liked knowing this woman was one, even if it wasn't at his establishment.
"I'll get that, too," he told the barista quietly, sliding a little extra cash across the counter. Turning toward the woman, Benny ran his palms over the front of his jeans casually. "You must come here often," he said, chuckling at just how corny it sounded when he said it out loud. "And I don't mean that as a line, I promise. Just thought it was funny, since I don't remember the last time I was even in this place."
Maybe it was when she first moved and needed the caffeine to fuel her unpacking, or was it when she had those meetings with the bank a couple months back? "I wouldn't have thought so, but I mean, apparently I do..?" The attempt to explain herself trails into a shrug as she fails to remember why she started coming to this particular coffee shop. Either way, the damage was done and Becca was a real resident again. "Next thing I know, I'll be walking into the hardware store feeling like I'm on Cheers or something."
She starts to pick at the croissant, pulling a piece off the end to snack on while she waits for her drink. "So you don't come here often, then," she comments, smirking through her own response. He seemed nice enough, but she would agree that he doesn't seem like a coffee shop kind of guy. And she could always forgive a bad joke if it allowed her to make another. "What made you choose today?"
"I know I don't have to, I just wanted to. Pay it forward kind of thing." August mentioned to the woman and then he shrugged his shoulders a but, "There ya go! Perfect, give them a nice tip so that they feel appreciated." August mentioned before handing his card over to the barista and then looking back at the woman as she ordered and once the payment was finalized, he smiled a bit. "I'm August, by the way. Yes, just like the month."
After a quick glance at the total, she retrieves her wallet in a search for cash with a short laugh. 'Pay it forward' was something her youngest had encouraged her to do a number of times, especially if it meant continuing someone else's kindness from earlier in the day. With a spare ten, she adds her contribution into the tip jar. "I'm Becca- it's nice to meet you," she puts her hand out in greeting and continues, "Do people actually need the clarification sometimes? Because there are definitely less believable names out there."
Sebastian got a bit of a late start to the morning, accidentally sleeping through his first alarm. He wasn't exactly late, but he didn't really have much extra time before he had to be at the ballet studio for his first class of the morning. Thankfully, Mug Shot Cafe was right on his way to work, which made it the perfect detour. He slid into the cafe and gazed at the menu, deciding what flavor of coffee he was in the mood for this morning. "Oh no, don't be sorry," Sebastian assured the woman. "I'm still not quite sure what I want, so please feel free to go first."
This poor barista, looks back toward her again with raised brows, silently hoping this wouldn't become a battle of niceties. And as polite as she would have tried to be, it was probably for the best that she wasn't delayed much longer. "Well, alright. Thank you," she fights the urge to offer again and steps forward to the counter, "then I'll have the iced cappuccino in large, please? For Becca." The transaction at the register lasts only a minute, but it's long enough for a small stack of booklets to catch her eye; 2025 Performance Calendar. She hadn't been to the community theater yet, but flips through the pages anyway, hoping for something familiar.
THEODORE WASN’T IN A RUSH. The early morning chaos had settled into that quiet, golden stretch where the world felt shiny and new, and, most importantly, there was nowhere to be. He’d finished his first appointment early, and his second had cancelled, which left an hour to go for a coffee run. And so he found himself at the Mug Shot, hands tucked into his scrubs, about to offer to wait to order when the woman ahead of him beat him to it.
The familiar weight of recognition settled before he even had time to think about it. They were cousins, albeit not in the traditional way. They never spent holidays together or had family reunions. No, his father’s paranoia never would have allowed it — they were Ferrantes. But he had seen her once, at his grandparents’ house one summer. A passing encounter, barely a speck in the mind of a six year old, but enough for him to remember her face. The years saw them become casual acquaintances, her the new senior at WB High and he a sophomore with older friends on the soccer team. And when he learned that they were related, that she did have a reason to be at Grandpa Doug’s house. Well, where do you even start? And so, nearly twenty five years later, he still only knew her as Rebecca Hawthorne, high school transfer and —very— long lost cousin.
❛ I’ll take a large cold brew and six muffins — surprise me. ❜ That should win him some points with the techs. ❛ And whatever she'd like. ❜ While the barista darted off to collect his order, Theo turned to her. ❛ Rebecca, right? How’ve you been? ❜ God. How embarrassing if didn't recognize him — even with his name scrawled across his shirt.
This scenario happened a lot, where Becca sees a face around town and thinks she knows them. It doesn't surprise her much anymore. The first few weeks after she came back were a little overwhelming, especially after a couple of her dad's friends showed up at her house and tried to let themselves in. She was grateful when they handed over their key with drunken apologies, but it was still unexpected. Much like the resurfacing of family members after having gone years without contact.
Mentioning the eldest son was a risk with her grandparents. Sometimes, it was as if he had simply gone for a walk to cool off after an argument and Grandma was sure he would be back soon. Grandpa would oftentimes pretend not to hear, before huffing through the topic as quickly as possible. And while Dad had his hopes for a mutual reconciliation, it was hard to do when each was as stubborn as the other. Becca's only real memory of them- that diverted branch of Hawthorne- was a hesitant man, his fun wife, and the shy little cousin.
If she hadn't seen him again during high school, they might have run across each other unnoticed. The pull of familiarity caught her attention after he stepped to the counter and spoke, drawing her eyes upward in time to catch his. "Yes, it is," she answers through a sheepish grin, feeling a shred of shame for not knowing he was living in town. "Theo, it's been forever! I'm good, I'm doing good. How are you? What have you been doing?"
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Benny wasn't the type to need a fancy coffee shop, but his coffee pot had somehow decided to kick the bucket, and the bar's coffee was absolute shit. Even on his worst days, he wasn't sure he could survive on that mess alone. He was planning to swing by the store and grab a new one but by the time he did that, then took it home and brewed a pot, he'd have too much social interaction for his own good. Instead of option to start the day off with a shot of whiskey, he made his way to Mug Shot, and that's how he found himself in line behind the blonde.
He hadn't meant to be looking so impatient, but apparently the barista behind the counter could read his discomfort, or maybe he was just familiar with Benny in general... Either way, he realized the woman was speaking to him and suddenly looked up from his phone before scanning the menu. "Black coffee," he said to the employee, "biggest size you got." Stepping forward, Benito tossed some cash onto the counter before glancing at the woman. "And whatever she's having, since she so kindly let me cut her in line." Selfish, maybe, because damn was she gorgeous.
Her mind's already wandered off when he passes by, checking the time and thinking of what the rest of her week looks like. That extra twenty minutes had quickly grown to over an hour with this stop, but something could probably be pushed to tomorrow. She would have to prioritize while in the car and even if part of her wanted to rebuff his politeness, it still felt like an obligation to continue. "No, don't thank me for that," she waves off his gratitude, "I'm just procrastinating."
With a resigning sigh, she gives up on pretending to consider the other drinks on offer and goes for her old favorite. "A flat white in medium, please." The cup is already marked before she finishes and the nodding barista smirks when Becca continues, as if they already knew what was going to be ordered from the start. "And then I'll get an almond croissant separate. Yeah, that one, the second down, perfect." It was almost embarrassing to realize she had already become a regular somewhere- the coffee shop of all places, too.
As he was looking at the menu since he wasn't sure what he wanted, August heard a voice and he was brought out of his trance and he looked around before seeing it was the woman in front of him speaking. "Oh yeah I uhm, sure." He said as he walked up to the counter and ordered himself a cold brew along with a muffin and then he turned, "Plus whatever she's getting." He mentioned to the barista and handed them his card and waited for her to order. @bloomtide
There was a level of small town kindness that she never realized she missed, until it smacked her square in the face. "You don't have to..." Letting him go first was something she definitely wouldn't have considered worth reciprocating, but maybe he was just a nicer person than she was. She was used to a quick 'thanks' and everyone moving on with their morning. "But hey, I'll tip for us, at least," she offers, then orders, "Just a medium of the house drip for me, room for creamer please."
Another day's worth of errands were ahead of Becca and she was already dragging her feet. The bed was just too comfortable to leave when the alarm rang that morning, setting her schedule off enough to skip breakfast. The stop at Mug Shot was practically a requirement if she wanted anything done before dinner. Her attention is on the menu board, bouncing between the danish or a croissant, until she hears the barista speak to someone behind her.
"Hm? Oh, sorry-" she has enough sense to laugh at herself as she steps to the side, "No, I'm not ready. You can go ahead of me." Not that it mattered; she always gets the same thing, anyway.
"...she's beauty, she's grace." "[...] she'll punch you in the face" ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
STATISTICS
i. the essentials.
name: rebecca joanne hawthorne; nicknames: becca, bec/k, becky (antagonist/affectionate); gender: cisfemale; pronouns: she / her; sexual orientation: heterosexual; romantic orientation: heteromantic; spoken languages: english, minimal spanish; age: forty-six; birthday: april 1st 1979; employment: event planner; financial status: working class with inherited debt.
ii. appearance.
hair color: blonde; hair style: long layers, loose wave; eye color: sky blue; height: 5'6"; weight: 138lbs; piercings: double earrings in both ears; tattoos: a small long-stemmed rose at her left ankle (90s stereotype).
iii. fun facts.
one. is surprisingly good at rhythm and music-based games. an expert dashboard drummer and ddr champ; two. absolutely must pace while concentrating on a phone call. if she can't, there will be some kind of physical movement with her hands instead; three. tends to underestimate time. shows up either early or late, food must be cooked with a timer, nothing is 'just a couple seconds'; four. signature scents- libre intense by yves saint laurent (lavender, orange blossom, vanilla), black orchid by tom ford (black truffle, orchid, dark chocolate).
iv. likes & dislikes.
likes: long drives, rainy days, energetic crowds, late night videocalls; dislikes: rigid routines, forced apologies, disorganization, rough fabrics.
v. additional.
hobbies: collecting antique frames, gardening; drinking / smoking / drug usage: yes / no / no; soft spot: her family; fears: bugs larger than a nickel, wasted time and effort, a boring life; comforts: watching tv on the couch, heavy blankets, hand holding.
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