[ working in a cafe sucks. there is no other word for how much it sucky-suck-sucks, but leo does it because it helps support his side projects--and by side projects, we mean "hopefully main projects when he can scrape together enough money to quit." so, he makes his living in buenos aires, a bustling city full of bustling people, making them cafe con leche for their hour long sits at cafe tables, from three pm every afternoon to midnight, or, occasionally, the early morning shift, where he deals with a lot of drunk porteños celebrating the "end" of their night out, aka seven in the morning.
he's almost got enough to open his own garage, though. before he is a barista, leo is a mechanic--he itches to fix things, make things better. the coffee machines here gleam and work with a proficiency that something as old as they are shouldn't; one of them even makes kool-aid as well as coffee. he finds himself tinkering at work more often than he should (and gets in trouble quite a bit for it) but leo just can't help it--he's got a mechanic's heart, and brain, and hands.
he's been here long enough, though, he's got a favorite customer. she's a girl, with beautiful, cinnamon colored hair, creamy skin, looking for all the world like a rose in a garden full of posies (or, in a more leo metaphor: a bolt in a bin of nuts) and she doesn't speak a lick of spanish. she's french--that much he can easily ascertain--maybe studying abroad, or something? who knows. he can't really tell.
what he can tell is that he makes her a "cafe au lait" (as she insists, and he rolls his eyes) every morning, at 8:30 on the dot, and though she initially started out being an annoying pain in the ass (too much milk? too little milk? she was picky, and you really didn't have much of a choice in being picky when you didn't speak the freaking language, but that's leo's opinion), she's...
well, leo grins a little dumbly behind his espresso machines when calypso walks in the door.
it's a sunday, farmer's market today, which means lots of porteña housewives will be chattering their way in here any second, but leo's completely fixated on tinkering with the coffee machine when he hears the bell ring on the front counter. popping his head up, a mass of black curls bouncing on his head, leo looks up and is met with that pretty, pretty face--he smirks a little and lifts his eyebrows. ] Solecita.
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he's almost got enough to open his own garage, though. before he is a barista, leo is a mechanic--he itches to fix things, make things better. the coffee machines here gleam and work with a proficiency that something as old as they are shouldn't; one of them even makes kool-aid as well as coffee. he finds himself tinkering at work more often than he should (and gets in trouble quite a bit for it) but leo just can't help it--he's got a mechanic's heart, and brain, and hands.
he's been here long enough, though, he's got a favorite customer. she's a girl, with beautiful, cinnamon colored hair, creamy skin, looking for all the world like a rose in a garden full of posies (or, in a more leo metaphor: a bolt in a bin of nuts) and she doesn't speak a lick of spanish. she's french--that much he can easily ascertain--maybe studying abroad, or something? who knows. he can't really tell.
what he can tell is that he makes her a "cafe au lait" (as she insists, and he rolls his eyes) every morning, at 8:30 on the dot, and though she initially started out being an annoying pain in the ass (too much milk? too little milk? she was picky, and you really didn't have much of a choice in being picky when you didn't speak the freaking language, but that's leo's opinion), she's...
well, leo grins a little dumbly behind his espresso machines when calypso walks in the door.
it's a sunday, farmer's market today, which means lots of porteña housewives will be chattering their way in here any second, but leo's completely fixated on tinkering with the coffee machine when he hears the bell ring on the front counter. popping his head up, a mass of black curls bouncing on his head, leo looks up and is met with that pretty, pretty face--he smirks a little and lifts his eyebrows. ] Solecita.
[ sunshine. ]