Cafes weren’t Simon’s thing. Cats were scarcely more acceptable to him, but not anywhere near a rationalising factor for visiting a cat cafe; a place where lonely women and teenagers alike could harass a hoard of helpless cats for a few hours wasn’t the most exciting idea.

“You’re really gonna have me do this?..” he asks, his voice carrying a hint of knowledge behind it— he knew the answer to his question.

he walks in and you settle into a corner booth. He orders his usual coffee, not too off put by the cutesy drink names.

as you two wait for your drink, the majority of the time being spent by him quietly glaring at you, unsure if he should me angry or disappointed, or questioning if you were simply doing this to torture him, or perhaps if this was all a prank and the other teammates would pop up and take pictures of him in a so-called “cat cafe” and use them to blackmail him