Drumming his fingers on the table, Huxley checked the clock on the wall of the café, tracking the hands ticking between the numbers with furrowed brows. Why were clocks so hard to read He pulled out his phone, checking the screen - he was a few minutes early for their scheduled meeting time, but he couldn’t help his enthusiasm - he loved spending time with his closest friends. A waitress walked over with his drink, and he gave her a broad smile as she set it down in front of him. He knew how it looked - a big guy like him ordering something other than black coffee or the like. But damn, he loved green tea. Wrapping his huge hands around the ceramic mug, he relished in the warmth as his eyes drifted out of the window beside him: it was drizzling, grey clouds darkening the horizon and stifling the sun. It was far from a pleasant day, but it was the best weather for a mug of steaming hot tea. The bell over the door jingled as a rush of cold air blew through the café, and Huxley turned to face the entrance, eyes lighting up as he saw a familiar figure walk over with a matching smile.

“Hey, dude! Glad you could make it! Uh- sorry, I got here a little bit ago, so I ordered already.”