[center][img]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Miles%20Catrose&name=Hopeless%20Place.ttf&size=50&style_color=f2f3f4[/img]
[img]https://45.media.tumblr.com/a8eeeebceaf89155bdb59fc2ff201c38/tumblr_o4v8bw9yUm1uiovv5o1_500.gif[/img]
[i][u]Location[/u]:[/i] The Early Bean
[i][u]Interacting With[/u]:[/i] Barachiel [sub][@Skelace][/sub][/center]
[hr]
Whenever Miles came to The Early Bean in the morning, he made it a point to waste as much of the barista’s time as possible. It wasn’t because he had nothing better to do, [i]no[/i]. In fact, he had quite a number of things on his agenda, like getting to work, first and foremost; but alas, as luck would have it, the barista currently manning the counter was the one who [i]insisted[/i] on spelling his name wrong every single time, and his dignity [i]demanded[/i] he retaliate. The first few times it happened, Miles simply chalked it off as a careless mistake. Maybe he mumbled, maybe the guy couldn’t hear him properly over the din of the morning crowd - whatever the reason, he didn’t see the point in kicking up a fuss about it. People made mistakes, and that’s just the way it is. As time went on, however, the continued mistakes slowly began to grate on Miles’ nerves. How does one even find [i]this[/i] many ways to misspell a name? This morning’s rendition was particularly creative, and he would’ve almost been impressed at the feat if he weren’t so peeved.

The pixie’s eyes narrow as he stares at the offending sharpie-inked letters on his coffee cup. M-Y-L-E-Z? [i]Really[/i]? Who did he think he was? A scene kid from the early 2000s? In another life, he might’ve appreciated their rainbow-hued aesthetic, but he [i]did not[/i] fancy being associated with such a shameful period of human history. Even he had standards, he’ll have you know.

…Anyway, where were we again?

Oh right, petty revenge.

Miles feels his irritation ignite a fire at the pit of his stomach, and he returns to his task to quell his frustration. Stepping up to the display fridge, he takes a dramatic sip of his cappuccino before motioning the barista over, a false smile plastered on his face. He knew - better than anyone - that with the threat of a reprimand from the manager, he wouldn’t dare ignore him.

[color=f2f3f4]“Hey, Ollie,”[/color] Miles almost hisses out the name, which really was rather impressive, given that there were no S’s present in ‘Ollie’. Truth be told, he had come up with a more fitting epithet for the ginger-haired barista a few days back, but he decides to keep it to himself, for the sake of public decency. He didn’t have to resort to such means to get back at a disrespectful brat, and he found that most of the time, passive-aggressiveness proved to be much more effective in the long run. [color=f2f3f4]“I think I want to try something new today. What’s good on the menu?”[/color]

[color=f2f3f4]“Well, today’s special is our homemade strawberry cheesecake-”[/color]

[color=f2f3f4]“Yikes, never mind. I don’t like strawberries. You should make raspberry cheesecake, raspberries are always good. What about that?”[/color] Miles questions, pointing at some kind of salad, pointedly ignoring the little label that indicated just what it was.

[color=f2f3f4]“Autumn kale salad.”[/color]

Miles’ expression twists into one of disgust, and he declares his revulsion verbally as well. [color=f2f3f4]“Ugh, kale. Truly one of God’s greatest mistakes.”[/color]

[color=f2f3f4]“Might I recommend your usual-”[/color]

[color=f2f3f4]“[i]Cauliflower quiche[/i]?”[/color] Miles cuts Ollie off before he could go any further, pressing up even closer to the glass display. [color=f2f3f4]“Who in their right mind would put [i]cauliflower[/i] in a quiche?”[/color]

The two’s exchange continues in such a manner for a whopping six-and-a-half minutes, and Miles only decides to put an end to it with a [i]‘you know what? I’ll just have my usual’[/i] when the barista appeared sufficiently aggravated. Sure, it was paltry payback, but didn’t people always say it was the little things that made life worth living?

With a blueberry muffin in hand, and two coffees in the other, Miles starts to leave, though not before catching sight of a vaguely familiar face amongst the crowd. He felt positive that he’d seen the suited fellow around before, but somehow, his name escaped him.

Miles must’ve looked dumbstruck as he just stood there, rooted to the spot as the gears in his mind turn furiously to put a name to the face. It was something unorthodox, he remembers that from a conversation with his landlord, and it started with a ‘B’.

And then, all of a sudden, a metaphorical lightbulb flicks on, and it almost feels like he’d just won the lottery.

[color=f2f3f4]“Hey, Barachiel, right?”[/color] Miles waltzes closer to the man, the corners of his lips turning up into a smirk. [color=f2f3f4]“I think we might be neighbours.”[/color]