#pm3

Lando • he leans back against the counter, arms crossed, bedroom eyes locked in. Doesn’t say a word, just smirks, because it low-key turns him on. It takes a bit for her to notice, but when she does, all the attitude is out the window. And, like, valid. Who would resist these eyes 😧

Ollie • taken aback, wondering if they’re about to fight or kiss. Or... both at the same time. And instead of backing off, he pushes for more, poking the bear (got it? hehe) just to see how much further she’ll go.

Pepito • now, he IS the sweetest man alive… until he’s not. I mean, I see him as such a soft spoken person, but if you give him attitude, he will give you some back. The duality of this man... RAHHH!!

It'd been three years already since he'd shrugged on his brown apron for the first time, yet his prince charming had yet to swagger in through the door. Every bell chime had Isack looking up, perfectly practiced smile ready to go, and still, despite a handfull of close calls and two heartbreaks, no one had come up. The smile was getting harder to forge, the spark of hope dimming with every new grandma entering the coffee shop.

Thus Isack started investing his time elsewhere.

As it turned out, the coffee shop was in constant need of innovation, every new season requiring decorations, a new layout, and a new menu to pair those with. Isack found solace in the creative process of it all, spending overtime trying out new combinations until he inevitably ingested too much caffeine for 9pm and Ollie would call him to leave the shop and come home. He was half convinced Ollie was mostly doing it only to make sure the door to their flat would be locked by the time he fell asleep, but Isack could never be too mad about his roommate keeping him in check.

Isack eyes glanced at the clock above the entrance. 19:47. He still had enough time before being forced home by an overgrown roommate/coworker. After another pumpkin spice latte-d autumn as a single man, it was now more than time to start working oon their Christmas menu.

Floors were hurriedly swept, some episode of sip and gossip was put on through the sound system, a guilty pleasure he allowed himself only when surely alone. With all those rituals done, Isack washed his hands and got to work, almost on autopilot as he brewed, mixed, sipped, and jotted down every observation.

He was partway through perfecting his third drink - a peppermint hot chocolate - when the sound of a bell chiming broke through some story about cockroaches infesting an apartment.

Isack spoke up, attention still focused on measuring enough chocolate to stir in the steaming milk, "Sorry, we're closed."

"Ah, the door still said open, sorry coming in, but you might want to flip it over before someone else walks in."

Isack's hand stilled, knife hovering above the chocolate brick. Was this man really allowing himself to saunter in past hours, and to on top of that criticise his work? Talk about things one'd rather not hear! He set down the knife, fists clenching as he his eyes glanced up.

"Listen here, even if the sign said open, our opening hours are very clearly started on our door, so I don't know who you think you are bu-"

His voice faded, getting caught in his throat.

In front of him stood possibly the most handsome person his eyes had every laid their sight on. A growingly bashfull handsome man at that. Deep brown eyes pooling in sorry looked back at him, squinted from the awkward smile dancing on the man's lips.

The man was much taller than Isack, but not awkwardly so like Ollie was, instead filling out his frame in some magnetic, easy going confidence Isack couldn't help but feel a pull towards. His tanned hand reached the back of his neck, presumably where his hair grazed his nape as his mouth opened, corners still stretched in that god forsaken smile.

"Sorry, it's been a long day and I just saw the open sign and a place to get some hot drink. And then I just wanted to warn you, I can flip it back out on the way out if you want? Real sorry again."

"Actually no, now that you're here you may as well help me out," Isack leaned across the counter, "reperations for breaking in or something. And you can get your hot chocolate that way…"

The man's eyes lit up, breaking through the thorough confusion he seemed stuck in at Isack's sudden mood swing. Prick, he should know he's hot enough to get away with murder.

"Oh the name's Pepe, yours?"

"Isack, but that's irrelevant." he gestured for Pepe to come closer, "come over here, Pepe, if you wanted a hot drink I need feedback on this one."

Pepe blinked once, eyes narrowing on Isack before resolving to follow along, "how do I know you didn't put something in it?"

"The security cameras and the fact that why the fuck would I have stuff to spike someone's drink with at work? Come on I swear, it's just hot chocolate and I need this drink up and perfected for next week. So either you leave and get banned from this place forever, or you help a poor overworked minimum wage worker out. Now which is it?" Raising an eyebrow, Isack held the steaming mug in front of him.

Pepe grabbed the drink, fingers grazing Isack's briefly before lifting the cup to his lips, eyes never leaving Isack's one, almost as in a challenge. A challenge Pepe soon lost as his eyes widened at the taste exploding in his mouth. A small satisfied groan escaped his lips as Isack leaned further over the counter, exploring every micro change in his expression.

"That's insane. What the fuck? Who are you?"

Isack isn't quite sure what came over him. All he really remembers is smiling to himself and uttering the next words with unwavering confidence.