DH Café

Entering from a door behind the counter, hauling a large crate of bottled of obscurely labelled beers, Mikael looked around at the empty tables, taking in the environment that surrounded him. dumping the crate onto the counter, he wiped his brow to alleviate it of the beads of sweat that had taken a home there, then picked up the crate again, taking it around the counter to the refrigerator that was nestled behind our hostess, and placing the drinks carefully inside it.
Again wiping his brow, he nodded to her, and then went to unlock the door to the cafe. Flipping the little ornately decorated sign from 'closed' to 'open' he walked back to the counter, and availed himself of a cup of coffee, and turned back towards the door behind the counter, turning his head and muttering "open for business... you ready?"

The fire glowed hot, hot and bright. The flames seemed to reach towards the shock of red hair, tried to lick at the castle of a man that stepped past with a twitch of smile. "I see we have the new shipment. Did they finally decide to send my Demon Slayer yet?" He had been waiting for the rare import beer for over three weeks. His patent leather clad footsteps echoed deep in the thick air, the scent of sandalwood lightly surrounding him.
He pulled his black leather jacket, emblazoned with an insignia of fire, from his shoulders. His tuxedo pants shimmered, the rich blood red pinstripes catching the light subtly between the black fibers. His shirt was open, always open, to reveal his extensive tattoo work. "Just leave them there, I'll unpack." It was unneccessary, he always unpacked the new stuff, so he would know right where to reach when it was needed. Jecht, the Bartender, was ready for his first customer of the day.

"It's an import, it takes time process an order, cut down the wheat, stick it in the bottle..." He trailed off as he dipped under the counter, looking at everything new in stock, and his mumbling continued until he rose again, "And find a cheap slave labor ship to carry it to this cultural backwash of a country. Just be patient."
He stepped backwards quickly, vanishing through the walls and reforming just slightly out of step with the motion walking backwards out of the hearth. His boots scattered ashes and coals, which rolled across the floor in a small circle before obediently jumping back into the fires. "Besides, I don't do underground or underwater, remember? I signed a contract, no cold work." He found a soft leather seat and waited around, hoping someone would come in sooner rather than later. He had been known to do rash and expensive things with the high content liqueur when bored...

Outside, the air was cold, the wind blowing a chill through a woman of medium height. She pulled her felted black pea-coat around her, trying to secure what warmth she had before entering the cafe. She pushed through the door, her tennis shoes squeaking on the ground as she moved to a table. The woman headed straight towards the counter, with the determination and speed one usually does not see in a woman before having some sort of caffeinated beverage. Her eyes seemed to carry that determination as well, darting only a few times to access her surroundings. When she reached the counter, she pulled off her knit gloves and straightened a golden yellow beret that was securing her dark brown hair. Her face was pale and white, as if the cold had drained the color from her face.

"Excuse me," she said to the person at the counter, her voice slightly lilting and had an authoritative edge. "But I was wondering if I could perhaps get a cappuccino with extra foam?"

Her eyes darted around again before she looked straight at the person behind the counter. "Please?"

Heading down to the cellar, Mikael heard the customer enter, and gave a little wry smile, as he really wasn't expecting the first customer so early. Turning his attention to reaching the bottom of the narrow stairwell, he proceeded to pick up the last of the crates of ale, ready to haul it up. It would be his last chore of the day, reverting to his new role of waiter. Back up the stairs, he pushed the door open, and walked around to near where Koi was busying herself creating the customer's drink, kneeling down to put the last of the bottles into the refrigerator.

Whispering to Koi, he said "Do I really have to wear one of those pinnies? I'll only be carrying food and drink to people.."

Mikael wasn't the most confident person at the best of times, and having to dress like staff that face customers really didn't sit well with him. He was the hired hand, the heavy lifting guy, so to speak. Plates of food were the last thing he expected to be lifting. But he went along with it because of his long-standing friendship with Koi.

"If you'd like to take a seat, Ma'am, I'll bring your drink right to you" he forced out towards the customer, gesturing with his arm to the arranged tables behind her.

Jecht seemed to grow taller as the steam built, feeling the influx of heat even from across the room. He discreetly pulled a bottle of rubbing alcohol from his pocket and began pouring it into his palm, lighting the puddle and idly watching it burn until he tossed the liquid into the air at the last minute and let it form strange, fiery shapes. Until someone needed a real shot, he was just backup for sudden rushes of customers.

"If you'd like to take a seat, Ma'am, I'll bring your drink right to you"

She rubbed her hands together as if she were still trying to warm up before looking to the table he was offering. It was as if she wasn't sure if she wanted to stay or not; she had a busy life, but sitting down, sipping at a warm drink for a while seemed like it might be quite heavenly. Taking the nicer choice, she moved over to a table, removing unbuttoning her coat before sitting down.

"Thank you," she mumbled, squirming a bit in the chair in an attempt to get comfortable. In most situations, she was used to being dominant, but at the moment, being served, waiting, it was like all the power was transfered to the staff; an idea she wasn't sure she was comfortable with.

"Cold?" He watched her rub her hands together with mild interest. He never liked anyone around him to be able to complain about a lack of heat. With a nearly wicked grin he looked over at the fireplace, concentrated on a single tongue of fire licking hungrily at the wood... In seconds the flame became a steady stream that stretched and groaned across the gulf of the room, connected to his hand, and wound around his fingers snakelike. After a moment, the fire disconnected from the hearth and simply trailed idly around his hand. "I can fix that. It doesn't burn, I promise." The swirling stream of heat traveled up his arm, and hovered over his shirtsleeve without burning it.

Her eyes flickered towards the flame, following it, but her eyes never sparked with interest, even as she followed the flame up his arm. She wasn't even phased by the man holding and manipulating the fire. "Ah, yes, I suppose I should be impressed, however I'll have to pass and hope that my drink warms me up adequately."

She leaned back into the seat, trying to get more comfortable. "Do you visit here often?" she asked in an attempt to start an idle conversation.

He continued to follow the heat trail, transfixed by the ribbon of fire winding itself up his arm steadily. "Actually, I work here. Jecht, bartender." He let the fire, snakelike in behaviour, curl against his neck. His breath smoked lightly in the warm room as he leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment. One large, almost yawning breath later and the heat was gone, absorbed into his skin with a small orange burst. "I don't remember seeing you here before, new to town?"

Soft thuds echoed lightly on the floor of the cafe as the door opened and closed with gentle ease. A woman walked in, though softly glided was a more apt description. Her cobalt eyes lifted, gently scanning the room before her head dropped once more. Her eyes hid everything behind their subtle gaze. The answers to the universe, the reason for living, the greatest joys, and sorrows a being could go through in a lifetime all pooled in the cobalt depths, swirling into vortexes of eternal responsibility. Long brown curls hung down her back, swaying left and right slowly as she walked to the bar. The woman was dressed inconspicuously in a pair of plain blue jeans and a white t-shirt that looked as if it'd seen much better days. Her feet were bare, and surprisingly enough, spotless clean.

"Hot tea with lemon and honey please." She whispered to the flaming... something or other behind the counter before turning around silently and walking to the furthest corner table in the room. Her body seemed to glow a soft blue for the barest of moments before turning back to normal as she lifted one of her bare feet under her, tucking it softly between her rear and the chair. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander while she waited on her tea.

"Yes, I'm just here for a few days," she replied, a crispness to her voice. She paused for a moment, before looking back up at Jecht. "So, do you do that often?" she asked, pointing to the fire.

He was observing the latest patron with such interest, he almost missed what the first customer was saying. "Fire is my..." He froze for a moment, trying to find the word. "Blood, life, existence, food, water, air." How do you describe what fire is to you, when what you are to the world is fire? He shrugged without ever taking his eyes off of the strange woman with the blue glow. "Excuse me, you seem somewhat familiar. Have we met before by chance?" He smiled and extended a hand towards her, a trace of light and heat producing a mimicry of his hand in front of her, just outside the visible spectrum of light. No normal human would be able to see it, but if she was who he believed she was...

Taking the drink to the table, Mikael bowed a little. "Enjoy your drink, I hope it's to your satisfaction" came the gruff yet friendly voice. Looking back towards the counter, he sees another customer, meaning he'd have another to lead to a table. "Hi there, would you like to take a seat? I'll bring your drink right over to you as soon as it's ready." With a manly pivot, Mikael turned and walked towards another nearby table, and pulled out the chair, so that the customer could take a seat. Putting on the friendliest facial expression he could muster, he beckoned her to the seat, motioning with his hand to make absolutely sure he hadn't been misunderstood.