The waitress was taking too long. Roiben resisted the urge to tap his fingers irritably against the marble counter as his eyes roamed the café. Wine glasses sparkled atop white tables in the streaming sunlight, soft murmuring hummed alongside the tinkling of cutlery against china, but coffee was thick in the air and he couldn’t help taking a deep breath in.
A soft breeze ruffled delicate leaves and blossom, scored across the ceiling in a criss-cross of thin branches. A few hung down low enough to smack him on the forehead and he had to stop himself from ripping down the third one and stamping it underfoot. Tae’s snort from the back of the café was quiet enough that he could pretend he didn’t hear it.
He smiled to himself. He wouldn’t be laughing
for long. It was Tae’s drink that was
holding him up, after all.