“So that’s what you’re drinking?” Kimiko said, minimizing an app.
Jack’s step faltered. “Yeah… so?” he asked, setting his vanilla-cream four-berry smoothie smoothie down on the table with all the authority a 16oz. cup of bright purple fruit milkshake topped with whipped cream could muster.
“Nothing,” Kim answered as he pulled the tail of his trenchcoat to the side to sit in the single booth bench opposite her. Just like with those stupid uniform skirts…
“What?” Jack asked, and Kim had to hide a smile behind her PDA.
“Nothing,” she said again. Mental note: Ridiculous sweet drinks, wears 90s trench coat like a skirt.
“Well what are you drinking?” he asked.
Note addendum: He may actually be slightly perceptive… when he senses people are judging him. “Soy milk cappuccino, extra shot, extra foam, no flavoring.”
Addendum addendum: Knows nothing about drinks. “Let’s get to work then,” Kimiko said, opening the document with the program code she’d been working on for him.
“Can I have a taste?” Spicer said, eyeing the wide porcelain mug and its molehill of frothy white foam.
“Sure,” Kimiko said. Add.add.add—ah screw it. Anyway, I’m not going to say he’s psychic—he’s way too stupid for that—but worth noting is that his judgment radar is the sharpest detection force I’ve ever encountered. She slid over the mug, which he uncertainly took and lifted like it was about to spill over. He tilted it to take a sip. And tilted it some more. And a little more.
And set the mug down with a solid thunk, milk foam blending with his paper-white palor. “It’s good,” he managed to say, shoving the cappuccino back at Kimiko.
She smiled, subtly. He sucked down his smoothie, defensively.