#xgivemework

"I don't have to talk to you."

Annica was at the Rabbit Hole, she'd gotten bored sitting home and decided that, perhaps going out tonight would be a good idea. She'd danced with a few young men but they'd left, or not really been her cup of tea. So, she found herself sitting at the bar. Her first first drink of the night finally in her hand and watching the man play the piano. He played beautifully and the music occupied her mind, she loved music. And piano was one of her favorites. 

She was half zoned out, listening to the music that she didn't catch him look up at her and attempt to catch her attention. But the second time he called out to her, brown eyes refocused and darted to the man's face. She smiled to him before she realized he was calling her over. So, in curiosity she stood and walked over. "Sorry, I was so caught up... you play beautifully.." She laughed nervously, though her tone was polite, friendly even. She couldn't fathom why he'd call her over. She had barely noted him calling her over, never mind why.

Thatcher was manning CuriosiTea alone at the moment. It was halfway between the morning usuals and the lunch rush, which meant that it wouldn't take more than him to keep up with any orders that came by. And with Mira and Dorian both not even ten minutes away, it didn't matter if there suddenly was a boom of activity, he could call them in to come rescue him.

He hadn't even bothered going to the back of the shop when he decided to take the quiet time to blend new teas. He'd gone to get the components, true, but then he'd brought them out to the front, to sit at the counter. The front of the shop already smelled strongly of tea, but the scent only intensified as he began to blend, the sheer amount of flowers, leaves, and other things permeating the air. It put a smile on Thatcher's lips, and he began humming to himself, fully devoted to his work. Some people painted, others danced. Thatcher blended. 

He was almost done with a new blend, creating different mixtures with different proportions of this to that, when the door open, prompting him to look up. "Can I help you?" he asked the man, a regular at their shop, though the name escaped Thatcher, tea taking up the vast majority of his conscious mind. He needed to sample, to see which tasted best, before he could clean up and focus on anything else. But, alas, a customer!