Mila opens her mouth to respond.

“We are here,” she declares, “for the beet poetry! Let the beets commence!!”

She didn't mean to say that. Huh. OH THERE ARE PEOPLE AT THE DOOR. That's good, forgetting to use her voice and using somebody else's would be bad. No time for that, though, somebody is jabbing her finger in Mila's face and spouting... something about beets.

"Oh, you're here about the beat poetry!" It clicks, like a grandfather clock that finally got to go a full circle around the clock face. Quietly, that is. It's a well maintained grandfather clock. It doesn't do for those to be making all these extra noises. "I actually changed the cafe away from that because... well, it didn't feel right. So it was going to be a maid cafe. But now I'm second guessing that." She makes a face. A cafe sounds so nice, why is it so much work!