"Order for Carmy!"

His own name typically goes over his head this early in the morning sans caffeine, but lately Carmy's found that he's more alert than he used to be during the hours of four and five-o'clock AM. Carmy pushes off the wall he'd been leaning against and heads for the pick-up counter to collect his black coffee with a few shots, one sugar, no cream.

Peering over the bar as he picks up a hot coffee sleeve, he finds that you're working an early shift again while you pour frothed milk into a cup for someone ordering in. He's normally perfectly content just seeing you— maybe a quick "hi" and "bye" and an exchange of smiles if you're not busy and/or he's not late— but the café's empty this early in the morning.

Carmy himself is only awake because he's going in to look over the books. Renovations across the street at The Bear are going as smoothly as possible, but things like the fire suppression test and the overall budget are still bugging him. He moves to collect his coffee and head out, but a quick wave of your hand has you directing him to a table so you can take your ten with him.

Because we're friends, he reminds himself while his heart flutters in his chest. He sits at a corner booth and waits for you to join him with whatever sugary nightmare you concoct for yourself every day (last time it'd been a mocha or something and you'd submerged it in cream and sugar).

But you're both friends, that's what this is... right? He'd come to the café under the impression that it was family-owned and not some pricey chain serving subpar coffee. But what made him stay a loyal customer is most likely you; the smiley barista with good recs and the biggest sweet tooth he's ever seen.

Speaking of which, you flop into the seat across from him and grin as you bring your own iced cup to your lips. It's an iced matcha latte today, it seems, and he doesn't even cringe at the amount of cold foam that's sitting at the top of it.

"Mornin'," he whispers over his coffee. He's going to be here a while.