<div style="
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box-shadow: 0 0 2px 2px grey, 0 0 2px 2px grey, 0 0 2px 2px grey;
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/*GIF*/
height: 110px;
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box-shadow: 0px 2px 2px #9932CC;
background: url(https://media1.tenor.com/images/44e1f590924eca94fe86067a4cf44c72/tenor.gif);
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background-position: 50% 40%;
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/*IMAGE*/
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box-shadow: 0 0 5px 5px #9932CC, 0 0 5px 5px #9932CC, 0 0 5px 5px #9932CC;
background-image: url(https://66.media.tumblr.com/c236fb10799a51a898f3b72e53b66f5b/tumblr_npt1rqgyzc1u7qudoo1_640.jpg);
background-size: 200px;
background-position: 10% 30%;
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/*NAME*/
height: 50px;
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color: white;">DANIEL</div></div></div><div style="
/*TEXT BOX*/
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font-family: Book Antiqua;
font-size: 12px;"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#9932cc">"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we don't serve that — what you see on the menu is all we have."</span><br/>
<br/>
The woman scowls, flicking away a lock of brown hair trying to be blonde with a mess of highlights. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#db94ff">"Starbucks has it as a secret menu option."</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#9932cc">"I'm sorry, we don't have a secret menu here."</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#db94ff">"How hard it would it be to make a Butterbeer Frappuccino? It's pretty much just caramel and toffee syrup!"</span><br/>
<br/>
He's struggling to maintain his polite smile now, disgruntled both by the woman's insistence as well as the stares of the irritated people behind her.  Why didn't she just go to Starbucks if she wanted an item specific to them? <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#9932cc">"Do you have the recipe? We can try to recreate it, although I can't promise anythin'."</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#db94ff">"I can look it up on my phone, one second."</span> She taps her phone frantically, glaring at a man who groans exaggeratedly behind her. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#db94ff">"Here you go,"</span> she chirps once she has it, suddenly far less obnoxious now that she's gotten what she wants, and hands him the phone.<br/>
<br/>
They can do it, starting with a basic creme frappuccino, but it's going to require a lot of screen tapping for these additional components.  <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#9932cc">"We'll see what we can do,"</span> he promises, and hopes that his coworkers manning the machines won't spit in the drink.<br/>
<br/>
The woman, content, takes her phone back and heads down the counter, and the following customers are far easier with their orders. Why are people still ordering coffee in the afternoon? Maybe they all work the night shift or something. Maybe not. Caffeine addicts are just Like That™ sometimes.<br/>
<br/>
<div style="text-align: center"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#9932cc"><i class="fa fa-users"></i> <i class="fa fa-users"></i> <i class="fa fa-users"></i> <i class="fa fa-users"></i></span>​</div><br/>
But of course, there can't only just be one fussy customer in a day. Nearing six in the afternoon, a man proceeds to stand there for several minutes, deliberating over his order. Why couldn't he have waited to approach the counter once he knew what he wanted? Normally Daniel wouldn't care, since there are no other customers waiting in line behind him, but his roommate and friend Camilla has arrived from out of the rain and he'd much rather be talking with her than putting up with this indecisive man.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, the man makes a choice and moves to the other end of the counter, allowing Camilla to make herself comfortable on his side as she always does. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#9932cc">"Hey, darlin',"</span> he smiles, both her visit and her gesture of bringing an umbrella for him leaving him warm. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#9932cc">"You didn't have to come all this way just for little old me — you know I don't really mind the water."</span> Just like she knows everything else about him. Well, about as much as he knows about himself. After all, she rescued him from near death and has thus been there since he lost his memory. He was just as much a stranger to himself and he was to her.<br/>
<br/>
He's still a stranger to himself, really. Several months later and he can't remember much of anything. Not where he's from, not his own name, not what his parents were like or <i>their</i> names... he can't even be sure that his own face is the correct one. The iridescent green wings attached to his back made it plenty clear that he's a fae, and the realization that he could shapeshift came later. So if he can turn into an entirely different person, how can he be sure that this body is his original one? It's a terrifying thought when he thinks too hard about it, so he's resolved to... think less about it. He has started keeping a journal that he writes in religiously, afraid that maybe one day he might wake up and have amnesia all over again. Is that even possible?<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#9932cc">"A hot chocolate with whip cream comin' up,"</span> he announces like a game show host, pulling out his wallet to pay for the drink himself, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#9932cc">"It's my treat since you brought me the umbrella."</span> He turns away to make the simple drink himself, which pretty much just consists of holding a cup under a spout and pressing a button. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#9932cc">"To answer your earlier question, yes, of course I do. But it's my job, so I can't really do anythin' about it. I'm not gonna take a job for granted in this city where a small apartment costs the same as a decent house anywhere else."</span><br/>
<br/>
He hands her the drink when it's done, leaning his elbows on the counter and shifting his weight to his toes to give the rest of his feet a mini break. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#9932cc">"So how did the job go? I'm assuming well, since you're here."</span> Yes, he's very much aware of Cam's illicit employment — she has even roped him into a few schemes once or twice. It's not like she could hide it when she'd only rescued him after initially planning to just steal his wallet (unfortunately lacking in ID). It was obvious she was a thief from the get-go. Not that she's really the type to hide things anyway, at least from him. But he doesn't really care about the illegal shit she gets up to — people have to do what they have to do to get by.</div><div style="
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text-align: center;">「 <a class="username" data-user-id="9084" data-username="MaryGold" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/9084/">MaryGold</a> 」</div><div style="
/*BOTTOM*/
margin: auto;
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height: 15px;
max-width: 100%;
background: #9932CC;
text-align: center;
line-height: 13px;
font-size: 10px;"><abbr class="bbc-abbr" data-trigger="hover focus touchclick" data-xf-init="tooltip" role="button" tabindex="0" title="CAFÉ • BLACK CITY">LOCATION</abbr> | <abbr class="bbc-abbr" data-trigger="hover focus touchclick" data-xf-init="tooltip" role="button" tabindex="0" title="NPCs | CAMILLA">INTERACTIONS</abbr> | <abbr class="bbc-abbr" data-trigger="hover focus touchclick" data-xf-init="tooltip" role="button" tabindex="0" title="N/A">MENTIONS</abbr></div></div><div style=" margin: auto; margin-top: 5px; height: 10px; max-width: 100%; text-align: center; font-size: 8px;">Code by Jenamos</div>