The Specialtea Shop

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. At the same time, deliveries were made to a small corner cafe that always seemed bigger on the inside, and perhaps that was where some of the magic came from.

Every morning, when the purple clouds had been burned away by the malevolent daystar that refused to let me sleep in, I found my way to that corner cafe. Each time, I was greeted with the same phrase. "Hello, welcome to the Specialtea shop, the one-stop shop for all your magical needs and desires. May I get your name, please?"

Despite the wretched day I was having, I grinned at the fae behind the counter, who asked the question to gauge who was here on business and who just wandered into the nearest shop in search of caffine. "Nice try. You can call me... have I used 'bastard orphan' this month?"

She pouted, inhumanly sharp teeth and angular features twisting the expression into something almost mocking. "Yes, and you really need to start expanding your repertoire of Musicals. Hamilton only has so many descriptions to re-use."

She might have a point, as reluctant as I was to admit it. "2-4-6-0-1, then. I want to see how many Les Mis fans are in the cafe today. I'll be the one announcing myself as Javert."

That earned me a genuine smile. Fae might like to keep up their haughty, dangerous reputation from the middle ages, and for the most part it was still true, but that didn't stop this one from being a giant nerd with a taste for puns. "What can I get for you today?"

I checked the specials menu, then settled on my usual. "Chai latte with a shot of Charisma to get me through today's presentation with minimal mansplaining, a chicken panini, and whatever single item from the dessert menu will tempt you into joining me when the mid-morning shift arrives."

I hadn't convinced the cute barista, whose nametag changed on a daily basis, to go on an actual date with me yet, but hope springs eternal. Besides, I needed advice.

"Chai Latte for 2-4-6-0-1!"

The Specialtea Shop was across the road and around the corner from a Performing Arts Collage, and it the lunchtime bell had rung ten minutes ago. About a dozen people jumped to their feet in a flawless, if unintentional, Greek Chorus, "My name is Jean Valjean!"

My crappy day got just that little bit brighter. "And I'm Javert!"

My cute barista cackled and the theatre nerds sat down, looking sheepish. It was better than last time I'd used that name, when one had been so in-character that they tried to fight me before their friends pulled them away. The server just looked pained, "Look, I appreciate the free entertainment, but can you please just ask her out already? There's only so long I can stop people from opening a betting pool and getting cursed when she finds out."

He did have a point, but I knew better than to make promises in this place. "I'll keep that in mind."

The mid-day rush hadn't quite dissapated, so I took my latte and pannini over to the nearest free table and settled in to wait. It only took a half-hour or so before my cute barista wandered over, carrying a mini-lavacake dusted with icing sugar and freeze-dried raspberry crumbs. I could practically feel my hips expanding just looking at it, and fought down the urge to order another one for myself. "I swear you bake Covertousness into those things."

My cute barista shrugged. "Envy, actually. It's more ethical."

One of the Seven Deadly Sins was more ethical? How? My conflict must have shown on my face, because she smirked. "There's a subtle difference between the two. Envy is discontented longing for something that someone else possesses. Covetousness is an overwhelming craving to possess that thing."

Huh. So, sprinkle a bit of envy in with the raspberry, and people might desire the desserts enough to buy them, but wouldn't be driven to extreme measures. My faith taught that a thought or impulse only became Evil when you acted on it, knowing that to do so was wrong and harmful.

I sipped my drink. "Anyway, advice. I was hoping you knew a good lawyer who deals in magical contracts."

My cute barista put down her fork, suddenly serious. "I do. What trouble have you got yourself into now?"

I cringed, anticipating laughter and humiliation. "I was babysitting, and my little sister didn't want to go to bed. She summoned a demon, and offered up my soul for two more episodes of Bluey."

Her eyes widened like she wanted to let out an involuntary laugh, but stopped herself. "Well, the good news is that your soul was never your sister's to bargain with, so you're safe there. Humans might be able to manipulate someone else into offering their soul, or persuade or encourage a deal, but only you can ever promise your own soul, never someone else's."

That was a relief, but I knew that wasn't the whole of it. "What's the bad news?"

My cute barista tapped her lower lip thoughtfully. "An argument could be made that you accepted the bargain by default if your sister got to watch two more episodes."

I shook my head. "Two more epidodes played, but my sister was in the naughty corner and the ipad was on silent and under my pillow."

She nodded smugly. "Non-completion clause, then. Demons like to act tough, but they're just as bound by the rules as the rest of us."

It was very, very hard not to swoon where I sat. "You would make a terrifying lawyer."

She looked even more smug. "I'm Fae, darling; it comes with the territory. You're going to be late for that presentation, if you don't get going."

I looked at the clock and gulped down the last of my coffee, scrambling to my feet. "Drat, you're right. Listen, I have two tickets to the new comedy musical opening this weekend; would you be interested in joining me? As a date?"

My cute barista stood, inhumanly graceful, and kissed me on the cheek. "I would love to. If it goes very well, I may even tell you my name."

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