Scaramouche

Scaramouche rolled his eyes as Aether, one of their regular customer, placed another order of his usual. In most days, he tried not to react but not today. He had enough.

“You know,” he started coolly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I've been meaning to ask you... why do you insist on wasting both our time with something that tasted like garbage mixed with dirt and old coffee grounds?”

It was beyond his comprehension how anyone could enjoy such an abomination.