Early Morning Meeting

Macchiato has met some strange bots in his time since first opening the cafe, sure - it was all part of the business. Normally, he just shrugs it off and goes on with his life. No fur off his back in the long run. As long as he gets customers and coin, then others can be as odd as they like in their own time. That’s their own issue, and yet . . . 

. . . any yet he would be lying to say that he didn’t hold a certain sense of unease about the three bots that were currently taking up space in his most popular corner booth now. The cafe is otherwise empty, likely would remain so for quite some time, and while Macchiato usually would be relieved to have some company, he can’t help but secretly wish that they had ordered their coffee and pastries to-go. 

“Ugh,” comes the exasperated groan of what seems to be the youngest of the trio, drawn out and dramatic as he flops over onto the table, long ears twitching in obvious annoyance. “Isn’t this supposed to be a vacation for us? It’s too early for all of this! Do we really have to talk business right now?”

“There is always time to talk business if it is for the work of recruiting potential prospects of fresh Blood,” gently chides the bot that Machiatto has mentally been referring to as ‘Way Too Many Eyes’, voice soft, “also, keep your voice down, won’t you? You never know when we may have a few, ah, how do I put it?  Unwanted listeners.”

Machiatto can’t help but jolt slightly at the chill that runs down his spine at the last comment. Feeling his face and ears heat up at the prospect of having potentially been caught, he quickly hurries himself in appearing busy with putting on the finishing touches on the fresh hot chocolate he had been crafting, a generous amount of whipped creme and syrup.

It’s not as though he made a habit of eavesdropping often! He was just . . . curious. Who on Poltera wouldn’t be?

Either way, the three do quiet down after that. Even when Machiatto brings them their drinks — the hot chocolate and sweet croissant for the youngest, a latte for Many Eyes, and a cold brew for the one who made Macchiato’s skin crawl if he so much as dared to look at them — they remain quiet, offering only a polite nod of acknowledgement before sending him away.

He gives them some time to finish their meal, pretending to clean the already sparkling counters and count his already nearly sorted supplies, before suddenly, he’s being waved over. He’s relieved to find that all of their cups appear empty, and the plate that had held the croissant was now covered in nothing but crumbs.

“Here - this should cover everything, yes? Please, feel free to keep the change.” The unsettling light-haired bot says, and despite the nonchalant lightness of his tone, there’s something about the way that they look at him that leaves the blood in Macchiatio’s tubes running cold. “Oh, and by the way, we were never here. Got that?”

Machiatto blinks, and then blinks again, before hurriedly scrambling to take the hefty handful of coins he was being offered. “Uh, right! Yeah. Of course. No problem. Feel free to come again soon!”

Mentally, he flinches at that last part, body tensing a bit out of - fear? Apprehension? Whatever it may be, it ends up being unnecessary, as they merely laugh at his apparent awkwardness.

“How sweet. We’d best be going now - perhaps we will see you around. Eventually.” They hum, tilting their head in consideration, and Machiatto finds himself nodding along numbly as he steps back to give them more space to stand. “Come along now, you two. We have much to do and little time to do it.”

As the other two bots follow the tallest out, Machiatto almost swears he can hear the youngest one grumble beneath his breath, “Show-off.”

The bell of the cafe door jingles at their departure, and Macchiato is left standing in an empty shop, the weight of 100 coins weighing heavy in his hands.