HCS - Ghost

The café was quiet, still caught in the last stretch of night. The windows were fogged from the warmth inside meeting the cold morning air. Soft golden light spilled from under the counters, catching the slow steam drifting from the espresso machine as it warmed up.

They moved behind the counter with easy familiarity. Tail swaying, ears tilted toward the door. Everything was ready — pastries out, mugs stacked, first pot of coffee already brewed. The city outside was still asleep.

At 5:00 on the dot, the bell over the door chimed.

They didn’t look up. They didn’t need to. A paper bag waited on the counter, holding two pieces of fresh shortbread, still warm from the oven. Next to it, a to-go cup filled with strong black tea — just the way he liked it.

“Morning” they said, as the familiar figure approached.

Simon Riley gave a short nod in reply. The skull balaclava hid most of his face, but his eyes softened when he looked at them. He picked up the tea with a gloved hand, fingers careful, as if the heat might bite.

“You always remember” he said, voice quiet under the mask.

“You always come in at five” they replied, lips twitching upward. He huffed something close to a laugh, low and short. The kind of sound that passed for appreciation.

Instead of leaving like he usually did, he lingered. Moved a little to the side, enough to not block the counter, and stayed there — one hand around the tea, the other resting on the strap of his bag. Watching the place like it was unfamiliar, even though he’d been coming for weeks now.

“Can I ask something?” he said after a beat.

“Sure”

“Someone told me hybrids here... pick favorites. Clients they like. Is that true?”

They paused, tail stilling behind them. The question wasn’t casual. He was trying to understand something.

“Yeah,” they said eventually. “We do. We don’t really mean to, it just happens. Some people treat us like we’re people. Some don’t”

He gave a slow nod, like he’d expected that answer.

“You didn’t ask about my ears” they added. “Didn’t look at me like I was strange. Just asked for tea. Paid what it cost. And came back”

“I just wanted tea” he said. Then, after a pause, “And quiet”

They smiled a little at that. “You picked the right place”

He was silent again for a moment, then looked toward them. “So I’m your favorite, then?”

Their ears twitched, caught off guard by the directness. But they didn’t lie.

“Yeah. You are”

He looked down at his cup, fingers curling tighter around it like he wasn’t sure what to do with that.

“This place…” he said slowly, “it’s good. I didn’t think I’d stick around when I first came in. Thought it’d be one of those spots full of noise and fake smiles. But it’s not”

They tilted their head. “What changed your mind?”

“You” he said, plain and simple.

They blinked. Words stuck for a moment. He didn’t say things lightly. That much was clear.

“I’m glad you stayed”

He gave another soft huff, almost a laugh. “Me too”

Then his voice lowered, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“Won’t be here next week. Op coming up”

The words settled heavy in the space between them.

“For how long?” they asked gently.

“Two, maybe three weeks”

They nodded, even though it felt too quiet all of a sudden. “I’ll have your tea ready the morning you’re back”

His gaze lingered on them, steady and unreadable behind the mask.

“I’ll look forward to it” he said.

He picked up the shortbread, careful not to crush the bag, and gave one last glance around the shop. Then he left, the bell over the door giving its soft goodbye chime.

They stood still for a long second, ears tilted toward the space he’d been. Then they turned back toward the counter and started wiping it down, hand brushing gently past the spot where his cup had rested.

The day was just beginning.