HCS - Price

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.

Right on time, at exactly five, the bell over the door chimed.

They didn’t look up. They didn’t need to. A warm blueberry scone was already tucked into a paper bag, and a to-go cup was filled with plain black coffee. No sugar. By the time his boots reached the counter, his order was already waiting.

“Morning,” they said softly, meeting his eyes as he approached.

John Price gave a small, tired smile. Just the corner of his mouth, like always. He nodded, slow and familiar, then reached for the cup.

“You spoil me,” he said, voice low and gravelly. As he put already counted money on the counter. They gave a soft shrug in reply, a little flick of the ears. No need to say you come in every day at the same time. It was just routine now.

But this time, he didn’t leave right away.

Instead, he took his coffee and stepped over to the small table by the window. That seat was usually empty by the time he came in. They blinked, ears twitching in quiet surprise as he sat down and held the cup in both hands, like he had no plans to rush off.

“You always have it ready,” he said after a minute, still looking into his coffee. “Don’t even let me order.”

“You’ve never changed it,” they said, drying their hands on a towel. “Five o’clock, black coffee no sugar, blueberry scone. Kinda hard to miss.”

He gave a soft chuckle at that, then glanced up at them.

“One of the lads mentioned something the other day. Said hybrids around here usually pick a favorite regular. That true?”

They paused, folding the towel a little slower this time. The question wasn’t teasing. He was just curious.

“Yeah,” they said after a moment. “I guess we do. When someone’s kind. When they don’t... stare. Or ask things they shouldn’t.”

He was quiet, listening.

“You never asked what I was,” they added. “Never asked what I used to do, or where I came from. You just said ‘morning.’ Tipped well. Didn't treat me like I was different.”

Price leaned back slightly, eyes still on them.

“That’s all it takes?” he asked, voice a bit softer now.

They smiled, small but real.

“It’s not everything. But it’s a good start.”

He nodded a little, like he understood.

“I like this place,” he said quietly. “Reminds me of somewhere I used to stop during leave. Good coffee. Smelled like sugar and warm bread. Nobody ever asked questions.”

“I’m glad you found us then.”

He looked at them for a moment. Something flickered in his expression — not quite a smile, not quite something else.

“I’ll be gone for a while,” he said after a second. “Deployment starts tomorrow.”

The smile they’d been holding flickered at the edges, but they nodded. “How long?”

“Month, give or take.”

They looked down for a second, then met his eyes again. “I’ll make sure you will get the best when you will be back"

He smiled at that. A real one this time. Small, but easier.

When he stood, he didn’t take the scone right away. Just lingered, hands in his coat pockets, like he was trying to remember the place exactly as it was. Then he picked up the bag and his coffee and headed for the door.

The bell chimed again as it closed behind him.

They stood still for a few moments, staring at the space where he’d been. Then they reached for the towel and went back to wiping down the counter.

The day was just beginning.