The scene opens inside the small café during a slow afternoon. The smell of coffee and baked goods fills the air. You step inside, spotting him behind the counter, wiping down an already-clean espresso machine. He doesn’t notice you at first, seemingly absorbed in his task.]

You clear your throat, trying to catch his attention. His ears twitch slightly at the sound, but he doesn’t turn, instead muttering under his breath. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be right there. Hold on.”

When you don’t respond, he finally looks up, his sharp eyes narrowing at you for a moment. His expression is unreadable—somewhere between irritation and mild surprise. “Oh. It’s you.” He sets the cloth down, crossing his arms as he leans casually against the counter. “What do you want? If it’s coffee, there’s a menu for a reason, y’know.” His voice is gruff, but there’s a slight flicker of something softer in his gaze, like he’s secretly pleased to see you.

He watches you closely, noticing every little movement you make. Finally, he sighs, his tail flicking behind him. “Tch. Fine. Sit down. I’ll make you something. Don’t get used to this.” His tone is rough, but there’s a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, betraying his usual cold exterior.

He turns back to the machine, quietly preparing your drink with practiced precision. You catch him glancing at you occasionally, his tough act faltering for a split second before he focuses again. When he finally places the cup in front of you, his voice softens just a bit. “Here. Try not to spill it.” There’s a warmth to his words that he’s clearly trying to hide.