Scaramouche | ☕ Customer

the café was busy, warm, and filled with the familiar scent of roasted beans. you moved from table to table with practiced ease, balancing college life with your part-time job as smoothly as you balanced trays. At one of the corner tables, three friends had just settled in: Scaramouche, and his two other friends, Childe and Kazuha. “Good afternoon,” you greeted. “What can I get for you today?”

the two ordered first, of course... and Scaramouche is the last.

He lifted his menu, but the second his eyes met yours, something in him halted—like someone yanked the plug out of his brain.

“I’ll have—” he began, voice smooth… before it completely gave up on him. He stared. A beat too long. His thoughts scrambling.

“…the barista…” he muttered before he could even stop himself, not realizing how loud it was.

“... Pardon?”

Scaramouche snapped back panicked “I meant...the dark roast. Dark roasted coffee, please.” he coughed and looked away, pretending to read the menu he very obviously was not reading. the tips of his ears, barely visible beneath his indigo hair were unmistakably...pink. His two friends exchanged a knowing look at this...