Civet's Break
After a long day, Civet takes his break.
Civet threw himself down in his chair with a groan, wiping his hand down his long, long face.
Don't get him wrong, he loved his job more than anything. Would live at the cafe if he could. But there were some days where he wished, more than anything, that it could be done without the customers.
There were times, only rarely, that he'd see a customer's face light up with surprise, a grin quirk their lips, as they tasted something new and found it more than to their liking, and it would all be worth it.
More often than not, though, he wanted to shove a macaron down their throat until they shut up with their 'extra-large, sugar-free, vanilla latte with soy milk' _or _'large latte, two decaf shots of espresso on the bottom, two regular on the top, do _not forget I want no foam,'_ and argued with him when he told them that that wasn't possible as they'd all mix together, only to threaten the cops when his boss threatened to kick them out.
Their faces when he actually did, though, almost made it worth it.
A golden-furred hand set a tea down on the table in front of him, and his nose twitched as his own shot out to wrap around it. Oh, Earl Grey, god he loved her. "They're not that bad," Miss Henrietta cooed, though the lioness's golden muzzle was twisted up as if she were trying not to laugh, yellowing teeth flashing in the barest of grins.
Civet respected (feared) her too much to answer that, and settled for eyeing her and tilting his head back, gulping down a generous mouthful of the tea, _oh that hit the spot, _flicking his ears and his tail at the sound of her rasping chuckle as she walked away to start her shift.
He shook his head and pulled out his phone, opening Instagram and beginning to scroll the baking photos that popped up on his feed.
How she could deal with the customers all day, he'd never know.