Morgana was used to certain regulars coming to her shop. That is to say, she dealt with them on a regular basis. But her clientele was far from regular.
Pantheon came in at least once a week, but instead of buying anything, he just asked to use Morgana’s kitchen. His baking had improved enough that she could actually sell whatever he didn’t take with him, but he always declined when she offered him an actual paid position.
Kayle never showed up in person, but she sent couriers to pick up her orders for her. It was always a different one, and they never gave a name, but no one but Morgana’s sister ordered angel food cake with lemon icing on Sunday.
Diana always just pointed to a random item in the display, and then pretended to eat it while she gossiped. For someone who claimed not to care about what Leona was doing with her time, she certainly spent a lot of time complaining about what Leona was doing with her time. But Morgana enjoyed the company, so she let the Lunari stay.
And then there was-
“Draven has arrived!” the executioner shouted, kicking the front door open. Darius rolled his eyes as he came in behind him.
“If you break my door again, you’re gonna pay,” Morgana threatened, but she was smiling faintly. She’d been saying the same thing for years, and every time he said-
“If the Draven breaks down your door, he’ll just sign it afterwards. That way you can sell the autograph!”
Morgana rolled her eyes, mostly out of habit. “The usual?” she asked.
“That’s right, one Draven special,” he said, leaning against the counter.
“Still not gonna call it that,” Morgana said, placing a cardboard box in front of him. She opened it let him inspect the contents – a half dozen fried balls of dough, each one filled with a different flavor of jelly and glazed to match. When he grinned and gave her a thumbs up, she closed it and slid it over to him. He scooped it up, danced over to a table in the corner, and started stuffing his face.
“And for you?” she asked, turning to face Darius. “Let me guess – one loaf of plain bread to go with your rations.”
Darius grunted. “Not today. Celebrating a special occasion,” he said with all the joy of a funeral director.
“Oh really? I know it’s not your birthday, because Draven hasn’t tried to order ‘a cake you can fit twenty strippers inside of’. So what are we celebrating?”
Darius pulled a stool up to the counter and sat down, leaning forward. “Twenty years ago, two dirty, little urchins were lost in Noxus, scrounging around for anything edible. And coincidentally, they stumbled across a fallen angel. Now, that angel looked like shit and she didn’t have much going for her. But she gave the boys what she could, and later that day, one of those wretched kids found her to repay the favor. He said-“
“He said, ‘Noxians don’t take charity’,” she finished. She placed another box on the counter, much smaller than the one she gave Draven. Inside was a single cupcake with purple icing, just like the one Darius had given her all those years ago. “I didn’t think you’d remember.”
Darius allowed himself a small smile, but only a small one. “I’ve got a good memory. Split it with me.”