Mateo

by underlemon

-imports fresh coffee beans from the Viridian Labyrinth -roasts, grinds, and brews his own blends of coffee -skilled barista, great people skills -has a stall in the bazaar and has good sales -chews his clawtips -dreams of a "greater" career but can't settle on a path -(this is his perfect job tho) -helps translate found texts for the library in his spare time -warm, robust personality

bonsai by tunesmith #82

Mateo briskly wiped down his customer-facing counter as the sun began rising between the pink-veined pillars that framed the temple. He had a permanent wooden installation in the bazaar, a contrast to the bright canvas pop-up shops around him. A few of the Past Echoes resident coffee-addicts were already seated at the tables Mateo had put out as his first morning task, awaiting the shop’s usual timely opening. The crowd didn’t say much besides the occasional polite mumblings towards each other, and the only thing breaking the silence was his cleaning and the soft snores of his dog dozing away in the corner.

With a sharp snap of the washcloth, Mateo leaned over the counter and happily called out to his sleep-deprived friends. “Alrighty everyone! We’re open for business!” Mateo cracked a wide smile as the dragons gave a happy sigh and settled into a loose queue at the counter.

“Good morning Xy', the usual?” A sleepy nod from the Tundra.

“And Coinnle, the special today is a caffe macchiato with vanilla paste and fresh cocoa from under The Behemoth. That sounds like something you'd like, right?” A hum and raised feathers in the affirmative from the Coatl.

He heard the sound of tired paws as the second wave began to file onto his patio, drawn in by the smell of fresh coffee. Most obviously was Queso, who always happened to appear the morning before a painting massacre was discovered somewhere in the temple. The bright Wildclaw’s unmistakably energetic entrance was met with a few sighs, but also many supportive cheers from the less exhausted dragons. Instinctively Mateo twirled to face the paint splattered wildclaw who stood not a foot away reaching for him over the counter.

“Unicorn latte with whipped cream?” He guessed, eyeing the still wet purple and pink paint that clung to her claws.

The wildclaw gave a wide grin at his suggestion. “Of course. Don’t forget the sprinkles!” Mateo gave a mirthful laugh as he turned to his bar to fulfill the orders.

“I would never!”