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The lot of them watch in amazement. It's like a train wreck. None of them can look away. Even the most steadfastly oblivious patrons are interested, pausing in their afternoon reading to see what will occur.
Yanagi takes a small sip of green tea -- expertly crafted by Shiraishi-- and pours a small amount into a second mug. On the other side of the table, Inui has practically set up a miniature lab, pipettes and test tubes in a nice little portfolio. His coffee -- black, hot -- sits in front of him and a smaller cup just off to the side. With an adjustment to thick frames, his fingers glide over different vials, each a more ridiculous color than the last.
“I really hope he doesn't pick the green one,” Oishi says, twisting the strings of his apron nervously.
“Dammit, man, get on with it,” Kenya seethes in a whisper and taps his foot impatiently.
“Calm down. I'm sure he wants to make the best drink possible.”
Everyone looks at Shiraishi like he has grown a second, and maybe a third, head. They hear a clink and all eyes turn back to Inui.
“I spent ten minutes brewing it just right,” Chitose says lazily and stifles a yawn.
“And I'm sure he appreciates it,” Kenya scoffs and pulls out his cell phone.
“You can't record customers,” Shiraishi reprimands and Fuji rests a hand on his shoulder, smiling kindly.
“Let him, just this once. I think I might like to see the outcome and perhaps try it.”
All eyes shift to Fuji again. His lips curl up deviously. They all understand why Yukimura made him the weekend manager. They are uncannily similar in their ways to freak out their employees.
“This is taking for-- Oh, shit,” Kenya says, a small pop and a cloud of smoke following what ingredient Inui has put into his coffee.
Yanagi reaches over and picks up the cup, taking a small drink. It's interesting, to say the least. He sets it back down and sips at his tea to cancel out the taste in his mouth.
“You singed your eyebrows, Sadaharu. The probability of that occurring--”
“Was seventy-two percent, Renji.” He scribbles down the note and takes a long drink. “Needs more of vial three...”
“Oishi-kun, perhaps you should sit down.”
“I don't want to know what is in vial three, Shiraishi-kun.”
Fuji's grin widens. “But I do,” he says and slips round the counter to engage his favorite chemist in conversation.