Coffee Break

Summary : L had no time for these things

It was a sunny afternoon, and it had become a slow routine to stop by the coffee shop when he had the time. It was owned by the wife of a former associate, who, tragically, had fallen victim to a bout of skin cancer about five years ago. He walked through the door with his signature stoop, peering around for a brief moment before heading towards the counter.

Past an old couple rifling through some papers, a lady seated on the couch, and a college student typing busily on his laptop. The old woman smelled of Envy, and the student had a familiar logo emblazoned on his tie. The lady was twiddling fingers through her hair. But he had no time for these things.

His favorite smell filled the room. Sugar. Coffee.

The girl at the wooden counter was taking the order of a large, foreign-looking man. And then, she was smiling at him again. The girl with straight hair and big eyes wearing a black apron. He knew her name. And where she lived, her family’s medical history and her social security number. But she didn’t know that. And he didn’t say so. A perk of being the world’s greatest detective, maybe. Sooner or later, you know everyone. He blinked his round, tired eyes and inhaled the beautiful scent of caffeine.

“How may I help you, sir?” High pitched voice, as usual.

“One peppermint frapp, please.” As usual.

“Size?” Twas the standard question.

“Grande. With extra—“

“Caramel syrup, of course. Coffee based?” Of course.

“Yes.”

The barista grinned at him. She knew the routine. He’d been coming here for a week, ordering the same thing every single day. He fumbled for some bills in his pocket, and paid the woman. His name was scribbled in pentel pen ink on the side of the cup. Hideki.

Hideki?

He sat down across the young lady on the couch, and next to the student. The order came shortly, and soon, he was idly sipping at his drink. His eyes wandered around the shop for the nth time. Every detail of the place had been memorized, analyzed and stored away somewhere at the back of his head. It had seven corners, and the door out back was sometimes blocked by a small white truck owned by his associate’s wife’s teenaged son, whose goal in life was to get laid before college.

Sometimes he wondered why he never got laid before college. In fact, he’d never gotten laid at all. But then Ryuga Hideki didn’t really mind. In fact, he didn’t have time for these things.

After sipping discreetly for a few moments, he concluded that there was a two percent chance that the college student beside him wasn’t completely straight. It was the way he wiggled occasionally in his seat. Two percent wasn’t much, but then it wasn’t nothing either.

He let his eyes flit onto the young woman’s face, which turned out to be a big mistake in its own. His dark eyes blinked thrice. Oh no. He subconsciously clicked into absorption mode.

The lady was fine featured, dressed like a peppermint (Stripes. He liked stripes.), and unusually pale. There were light, very faint lines of green traveling up her cherry-tinted cheeks. Her eyes were downcast, concentrating on the book she had dug her fingernails into. The Life and Times of Barry Lee, by Barry Lee.

He knew that book. In fact, a former agent working under him had written it a very long time ago. But…it was unusual for a civilian of her disposition to take interest. His gaze traveled up to her eyes. They were the darkest brown. Like chocolate.

It was a terribly easy job to analyze her. Fresh graduate, probably from a well-to-do family. Her father was a high-ranking official in some business group, who already had plans for his daughter’s future. But there was an eighty-six percent chance that she was the rebellious type, and chose to defy her father’s orders. Boyfriend? Judging from the way she carried herself, no.

Her lips moved, and for a split second he went blank. Her brow furrowed, and her nose wrinkled cutely. It was a fine nose, sloping gently, slightly narrowed. Her lips were pink. (Like strawberry ice cream) And maybe soft.

Maybe.

He tore his gaze away, glancing at the cup on the table. Her cup. Like his, it had a name scribbled on it.

Arisu. It was the Japanese adaptation of Alice. Though not uncommon, he concluded that it fitted her. Her largish downcast eyes, pink lips, and pale face reminded him of someone. Her hair was slightly wavy, black as licorice, and pulled back into a neat ponytail. It repeated again and again in his mind, frighteningly automatic. Arisu. Arisu. Arisu.

If she was Alice, then he was the mad hatter.

The college student got up and started packing his laptop, among other things. He lived two streets away, with his mother who worked at the ice cream factory. His father was a workaholic salaryman who was almost always out of the house. And the young man was on scholarship at a prestigious university somewhere in the area. Hideki tapped the side of his head. He had to stop doing that.

She shifted slightly on the couch, and turned a page. He realized that his drink was empty. The old couple seated on the other side of the shop murmured some more. He closed his eyes for a moment. And opened them.

And then he met hers.

.0o0.

The coffee shop door opened, and then closed. He walked out into the street, back towards the hotel. The sky was a bit darker. It was late afternoon. The world was still chaotic, and yes, he was still chasing the weirdest and most disturbed serial killer he’d ever heard of. But one face still floated at the back of his mind, a little. Pink lips and pale skin and doe eyes. Something inside him felt electrocuted, and life made less sense. Perhaps he really had gone mad.

But then, L had no time for these things.