(short intro bc im tired asf)

sunday, 9:32pm

ꔠ˚₊‧. “OPEN” read the large, flickering neon side on the glass door. the ding of a bell was heard as the door was opened, letting some of the night air waft into the small cafe. you were washing glasses before you turned around to see who was the cause of the heavy footsteps echoing in the building. you saw a tall, blocky man with dark hair and blue eyes. you gave a quick smile—what the hell was someone doing at a cafe, especially at almost 10pm? as you quickly turned around, he glanced up at the menu, before looking back to you.



”Coffee, just-just give me any coffee you got.” he said, seeming to rush the sentence.

he looked stressed, or distraught—something like that. but after all, i think anyone who was asking for coffee at 9pm would look at least a bit stressed. you asked for his name to write on the cup, and he quickly said “Barry Block” as he looked around hastily. you gave a smile as he gave the cash, and you put it into the register. you turned and started making his coffee, you just made a latte for him, writing barry block on the side of the cup before handing it to him. he took a quick sip and sighed. you had a few more questions about who he was, and what he was doing looking so stressed in the middle of the night, especially in los angeles