halfwaytohades:
It’s almost midnight, so naturally Levi’s awake, mind going a hundred miles a minute. He chooses Gregory’s for a multitude of reasons. One, it’s close to the University, yet not close enough that he might encounter his peers. Two, the coffee is reasonably priced, neither so fancy that he doesn’t know how to order it, nor so cheap that he’d pretty much be drinking tap water. And three, the staff. Or one of them at least.
He doesn’t know the guy’s name, but what he does know is that he doesn’t try to force small talk, or angle for tips or upsell. He’s perfectly fine with Levi drinking just regular coffee and lingering for hours upon hours in a corner of the café. He’s good on refills, circulating to get Levi a fresh cup as needed, before returning to his nose in a book. Levi wishes that more of his interactions were this efficient, thisharmonic. ( Well, save for his one with Wes – the nature of their relationship being both baffling and constantly antagonistic and which Levi would not change for anything in the world, but that’s not anyone’s business but his own. A secret that’s for him, and a good one, unlike Charlie. )
So his natural reaction to the offered drink is of course a blank expression, followed by a raised eyebrow and a suspicious appraisal of said drink. He’d been in the middle of glyph deciphering, had been mid-glyph so to speak, and the man’s voice had broken his very laser like concentration.
Damn. What about the efficiency? The harmony?
He sniffs at it. There’s a touch of alcohol in there. Which depending on the day can either fuel his manic researching or cause him to lie face down on a floor and think despondently about life. I mean. Obviously not enough to get to either point, but Levi’s always been a light weight as far as he can remember, even though he’d never straight out admit it to anyone. His mouth turns down at the corners, an unconscious prissy gesture. “…What’s an Irish coffee? And why do I want it?”
This is... not quite the reaction Tony was expecting. Admittedly, he isn’t sure what it is, exactly, that he was expecting --- theirs is a vow of silence, after all (a habit Tony should really learn to adopt with most people he meets --- the less people any of them talk to, the safer they remain --- but alas, he is a social creature at heart and he’ll be damned if he lets a little misguidance on Chris and Martha’s parts --- admittedly, not the smartest of the bunch --- get in his way); but he was expecting something other than this, at least. No one has ever frowned at him for offering them free coffee, let alone free alcohol.
“It’s uh, coffee... with whiskey?” This seems like the obvious answer. Tony’s never met anyone that didn’t know what an Irish coffee was before. He pauses as to take a sip of his own, as though to demonstrate it’s safe --- as though he’s brewed the man poison, or something. “You want it because it’s cold and curling up with a nice serving of whiskey is nice --- and because it’s past eight, which is the only socially-acceptable time to consume alcohol.” He pauses, gives this a short thought, and adds, “--- unless we were living in Europe --- in which case, a glass of whatever with lunch is considered socially acceptable. The exact kind of drink depends on the country, though.” Wine in Italy, Spain and France; beer in Germany; vodka in the former USSR. He’s rambling because he knows this is not an answer he truly needed to provide, because the academic already knows it (but then again, who would have asked him that question to begin with?) --- and because he’s getting the inevitable feeling that Mr. Academia over here might not like him as much as he thought he does. Nevertheless, Tony tries to offer the man another tightly-pressed smile before taking yet another sip of his own drink.
