nocturna;

"it's  a  good  thing,"  caz  assured,  "having  plenty  of  options.  i'm  just  a  simple  one."  there  was  a  small,  quiet  laugh,  mostly  at  herself.  "i  usually  drink  a  black  coffee.  instant  at  that,"  the  slant  to  her  lips  inclined,  "and  at  the  times  i  do  feel  adventurous  i'll  maybe  add  a  flavored  creamer."  the  fact  that  she  wasn't  coffee  savvy  was  likely  even  more  pronounced  with  caz's  ignorance  to  the  café  having  changed  ownership.  it  was  great,  and  impressive,  to  see  a  young  woman  at  the  helm.  "how  long  ago  did  you  buy  this  out?"  the  strawberry  blonde  leant  into  her  curiosity,  her  irish  accent  always  coming  through  in  the  musical  cadence  in  which  she  spoke.

she reached for a cup, starting on the relatively straightforward drink. “the darkest. italian blends are actually darker than most french roasts, and the arabica beans we use have a softer taste that keeps it from being too bitter.” then, almost conspiratorially, “but if you don’t like it, i keep a bottle of french vanilla creamer in the fridge.”

emerson would be lying if he said the best part of his day wasn’t the way cora always ran for the door when he walked in. maybe it was cliche, mans best friend, but she really was — his companion before anyone else came into his life on mirabella.  lavinia moving in with him had kind of come at the perfect time, a few years into his time on the island and feeling, somehow homesick, perhaps not for the home itself, but some of the comfort it provided. he knows it can’t stay like this, her living out of his guest room, it’s not sustainable on the long term, but it’s worked, in an odd sort of way for the last two years.  he’s pretty sure it’s because their schedules rarely, if ever, line up. he’s got a constant need to go, hard to slow down. he’d never been good with being left alone with his own thoughts, not that he’d touch that with a ten foot pole.  there were nights, however, where both of their schedules took a break, allowing them the time to catch up — or at the very least, decompress and exist in the same space at the same time.  he stops in the doorway to sanitize his hands, to hopefully erase the scent of the cigarette he smoked on his walk down from his skin. “I pride myself on being able to arrive just when the food is ready, no earlier, no later.” a joke, and perhaps, not a very good one and then he grimaces at the memory. he was a doctor and sure, he understood the importance of staying healthy, but who put kale on a pizza?  he kicks off his shoes, and meets her halfway, grabbing the box from her hands, and raises an eyebrow, not a question, but in contemplation. “a little of both, saw way too many kids today,” and then “how’s the cafe going? did you get the stuff you needed for the repairs? I was talking to william at the hardware store about quotes, for the work and i think I can talk him down a little more, if you’d like.”

she swiped a slice from the box before perching on a nearby barstool, leaving the rest to him. lord knew he could put away food when he remembered to eat. judging by the look of him, and the smoke that clung to his collar, just beneath the acrid smell of ethanol, she wasn't entirely convinced he'd had time for a lunch break. 

“surprisingly, the cafe’s still standing,” she replied around a bite. it was a joke now, but when she first took over, there were very real concerns about the sea-worn foundation. “i ordered the shingles already. they should be delivered tuesday, but they were trying to—” she paused, searching for the least offensive phrasing, “—basically screw me on the install. ten grand all in.”

the number still felt absurd when she said it out loud. “so if you can talk william into something better, i might actually build a shrine in your honor. maybe put your picture up in the café, right next to the menu." she paused. “although that might give some people the wrong idea… might score you a couple dates, though.” she added a wink for good measure.

when  it'd  come  to  simple  pleasures  such  as  coffee  caz  usually  enjoyed  them  at  home,  on  the  porch  or  patio  whilst  enjoying  the  quiet,  as  sacred  me  time.  though,  clearly  vulnerable  to  temptation,  the  scent  of  espresso  pulled  the  strawberry  blonde  into  the  clementine  café.  while  the  barista  was  busied  with  tasks  to  keep  the  shop  in  tiptop  shape  her  irish  eyes  perused  the  menu.

thankfully, she had added her own spin to most of the drinks and had a few suggestions. “i have a cold brew with whipped honey cold foam that you might like? it’s topped with a pinch of sea salt flakes. it's not quite as rich as the lattes.” the brunette nodded to a small chalkboard resting atop the pastry display. “or, if you're after something summery, there’s an italian caffè al limone. espresso with a bit of lemon zest.”

"well, that's just the thing. i can't figure out if i want a raspberry iced latte or caramel macchiato..." his eyes drift to the barista standing in front of him. "which one do you think is better?"

it had taken three batches to get the tartness just right. “so, i’m going to be biased and point you towards the latte.”

“i would, actually,” she smiled, already reaching for a cinnamon roll. “have you ever had a red eye? i can make it a bit more tolerable.” she liked to add a twist, adding a splash of vanilla and oat milk to cut the acidity of the drip coffee and espresso. “twice the caffeine, and hopefully enough to keep you going until tonight.” she moved to reach for a cup, stopping before she marked it. “hot or iced?”

taylor beams, in the big dumb way he always does when someone hits the ball back in the fun little games he offers. he feigns a deep sigh, hand falling over his heart as he sways wistfully where he stands. “yeah? that’s a much better explanation for why his hair is so big than others i’ve heard.” closer now, he takes a look at the flower headband, along with the rest of her appearance — party ready, he has to guess. “you look like you’re celebrating something. or, well, you were. right now, you look like someone who is, god forbid, partied out.” he teeters even standing still, unbridled energy radiating off of him like top 40 music from a karaoke bar. “you’re okay, right? i don’t have to wonder and worry after you all night, do i?” 

open to: anyone! @mirabellastarts location: seabrook point's nightlife area ... at night!

not due to clock into work for the night — god help mirabella that taylor is out and about anyway, traipsing down the street like a man starved for small talk. he’s good at it; he drops into groups’ conversations like he’s known them all their lives, throws arms over shoulders and suggests places to eat like a concierge’s evil twin. all his aimless wandering through mirabella’s nightlife streets find him in front of dorothy’s. it’s his night off, but the music and noise inside makes him linger anyway … long enough for him to notice somebody else idling out here too. so taylor sidles over to them, nudges them in the side like they’re familiar enough to do so. “there’s a pianist who works here usually who suuuucks,” he offers like a secret, “but i heard he’s not on shift tonight. soooo it’s safe to go in, if that’s what you’ve been out here wondering about.” 

status: open

it had been a rather slow evening so far at crimson & clover. but, that how it seemed to be whenever savannah was scheduled to work a weeknight shift. only seeing a couple strangler regulars come in and leave rather quick, she was itching for a rush ... or at least someone interesting to chat it up with.

when her next customer took a seat at the almost empty bar, she sighed as wiped down the table with a rag. "look, the last three songs that have been played on the touch tunes have been ... questionable. if you play the next song and it's actually decent, your first round is on me."

it didn’t take long to pull up the app, and she swiped through a few options. too cliche. too loud. why was that one even an option? finally, her finger hovered over the perfect choice, and she tapped it without hesitation. perhaps a bit eclectic, she couldn’t help that grin that spread across her lips when the opening riff of i wanna be sedated came through the speakers. “too on the nose?”