don't think twice, it's alright
To Lukas's mind, there wasn't a better way to explore a new city than with a cup of local coffee.
That, at least, was the thought that brought him to the little cafe near the university. And his immediate thought on opening the door was that everyone else had had the same idea. The tables and booths were littered with students and papers and laptops, and the line was several people deep.
Ah well; he'd just make it a to-go cup.
Grabbing the day's paper from a stack by the door he stepped into line and inhaled the rich coffee-shop scents - beans and cocoa and steaming milk - as he scanned the front page. Lukas was surprised to see a headline about multiple shootings, though the neighborhood was one he didn't recognize; he hadn't heard much about crime in this city. Maybe that was just what came with being on a harbor.
The bell on the door rang out as someone else entered, and an icy gust of wind made Lukas glance back, drawing his jacket more tightly around him. What he saw made him sigh. Despite the weak sunlight on his way here, it had begun raining, darkening the sidewalk and streaking the windows. Looked like he was going to have to find a buddy to sit with.
"What can I get you?" the barista asked with a flintier-than-necessary grin, and Lukas eyed the chalkboard behind her, marked with five-dollar lattes and ungodly combinations involving butterscotch. He thought of the ten-dollar bill in his pocket and how he'd have to scrounge up lunch, too. Hopefully there were help wanted ads in the paper.
"Medium black coffee, thanks. Dark roast." He tipped the change into the mason jar next to her register, but immediately regretted not keeping the quarter. Damn, he was too old for this kind of life.
Holding his coffee in a way that kept the finger-scalding to a minimum he eyed the shop, his gaze finding groups of two and three at each table and every seat along the window full. But there was a booth in the corner, and he began heading for it, cheering his luck. It wasn't until he was standing before the table that he spotted the dark-haired woman who sat there, hidden by the back of the booth.
He glanced for the window - still pouring rain.
"Mind if I sit here?" he asked her, inclining his head to the space across from her. "I just want to, uh," and he lifted the newspaper, as if he needed a reason to linger other than the rain, which had begun lashing the windows in earnest.