The plot doesn't advance, but the characters do! Also, more of them! A lot more! And if I got you wrong, sorry. I'm totally making this up as I go.
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Bearing a false grin seemed to be something that SomeGuy was good at. He was, afterall, the wiseass, lucky-bastard Staffer, well-known for his quick wit and overall likability. But today, his expression held more lies than usual.
“I know you’re upset,” Becky said as she and SomeGuy wiped down the tables of the Writers Bloc Café. It was early – but not too early, since the people they catered to weren’t exactly the type that rose with the sun. “But you shouldn’t be so…chipper about it.”
“I’m not upset,” SomeGuy responded, stretching over a tabletop to reach a far corner. “Really. I’m not.”
“Um, no, you’re lying.” When he looked up, she tossed a rag at his face, which hit its target square on. “I dunno why you do it – if it’s to distract you or make me feel better or whatever. But it’s pissing me off.”
“Alright alright…” The signature grin fell off and was replaced by a frown, its entrance heralded by a sigh and slumped shoulders. “You’ve got me. Sorry.”
“Good. Can I have my rag back?”
SomeGuy tossed the moist towel with the signature grin back on his face. “Ah, Becky, reader of minds…”
“Yeah, right.” She laughed. “I’d be the stuff of legends, if legends were about bossing around my subordinates.” Then she paused, standing upright and looking curiously at the Staffer. “...You realize that you hired me, and that this café is technically yours?”
“Huh. Is that right?” SomeGuy moved a chair out from his way and began wiping another table. “Well, looks like you took command…And besides, it’s a joint effort. A group thing. You know, teamwork and all that stuff.”
“Chuck Norris can spell team with an i…”
“No, Wang Fire can.”
“Who?”
“Nothing.”
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The sun was high in the sky, its brightness even more realized by the blank canvas of blue it hung on. That being said, it was hot.
“Coffee please,” Katana ordered as she leaned against the front counter, adjusting the bag that held her laptop. Becky raised an eyebrow as SomeGuy scurried in the background, fulfilling orders and cleaning dishes.
“It’s effing hot out there, Kat,” she said, her finger hovering over the cash register in uncertainty. “You sure you don’t want an iced coffee or something?”
“Naaaah. Gotta have my warm stuff. Iced coffee isn’t nearly as good. The ice dilutes it.”
“Then…Nevermind. Alright, one coffee, dollar fifty please.”
“You’re freakin’ crazy,” Shinmaru muttered from behind her in line. He rubbed the left side of his face with his palm, stifling a yawn. “Though…”
“You look like a hobo,” she pointed out in return, crab-stepping towards the ‘pick up’ side of the counter. “I think it’s the beard.”
“The beard’s awesome.”
“The beard needs to go.”
“The beard is staying.” He paused. “It’s my face, dammit.” In the same motion, he turned towards Becky. “Coke and a bagel.” He paid no attention as her face squirmed in disgust at the combination.
“Yeah, but we all have to look at it,” Katana quipped, causing him to shift his attention back to the facial hair argument.
“What the hell, you weren’t complaining about it before!”
Suddenly, Katana broke out in a grin. “I know.” She snatched up the coffee mug (placed there by Nehszirah, the part-time worker of the day) and danced out of Shinmaru’s reach, who had made a motion to grab for her shirt collar. She jogged around the line in front of the counter and shot towards the back of the café.
Hidden behind a wall was the staircase upstairs, which ran parallel to the street outside. It was hid rather well and blended into the wall, mostly unnoticeable unless one paid attention to how the lighting hit it. But really, it didn’t matter. If one wanted to, they could join the team of the indie newspaper that called the café its home base. It was simply that most people…didn’t.
About halfway up the staircase, Katana stopped and sat down on the step, sipping from her coffee. Drowning out the noise from the café below, she noticed that the second floor seemed rather quiet. There was a lazy tapping noise coming from above…or maybe that was just her imagination.
“Hey, are you up – there you are, you little turd.” Shinmaru took a huge bite from the bagel in his left hand before he slowly ascended the stairs. “Any reason for dissing my beard?”
“No, I just…felt like it.” She grinned again, standing up and completing the trek up the staircase. She peered into the hallway, which ran the same way as the staircase, before calling out. “Helllloooo!”
The building that housed the Writers Bloc was meant to be used as an apartment complex. But as it had remained vacant, SomeGuy and Becky took it over, renovated it to their needs, and made it into a business. There were several businesses in the city that had similar origins, but the Writers Bloc sometimes served as a second home to its workers.
Shinmaru popped his head into the hallway as well. Right before the duo was a bathroom, which served both the café and the journalists. At the left end of the hallway was a room about half the size of the one downstairs. It served as the main hub of the paper, housing computers, a TV, an arsenal of printers, and a swarm of electrical outlets (for any other electronic devices that would need them – mostly, however, for laptops). At the right end was a storage closet and another room, this one about a quarter of the size as the one downstairs. It was the copy room.
A faint tapping was coming from the computer room, so the two journeyed there. Inside was Kaydirt (slumped over a desk and sleeping soundly), Sangome (curled up on the floor, her laptop showing off its screensaver), Aceburner (head propped against the wall that housed the windows), Timechaser (leaning back in a chair, drooling), and Weyward (weywardwrrior), of whom was making the noise. His eyes, however, were drooping severely.
“You need a break,” Shinmaru said, causing him to snap awake.
“Oh! Hey!” Weyward attempted to stand up, but immediately stumbled, tangled up in the chair, and fell backwards onto the floor. This prompted everyone (with the exception of Timechaser) to fade into consciousness.
“Urgh…morning?” Sangome mumbled, sitting up and stretching. “What…Oh. Right. I was here.”
“Looks a little suspicious,” Katana teased, sipping from her coffee mug.
“They’re my man harem, what can I say?” Sangome replied. She was able to keep a straight face for all of one second before giggling.
“You have an odd taste in men.”
“Like you’re one to talk, especially with the whole ‘I’m gonna marry Timechaser!’ thing goin’ on. Creeeeeepyyyyy…”
“He said that I’ll have to wait until I stop being jailbait.” There was a slight pause before the two burst out in a laughing fit.
“Wha’cha guys been up to?” Shinmaru asked, nibbling on the bagel. “I didn’t know there was a writing fiesta going on…Why didn’t anyone invite me?” He did his best to pout, which failed miserably.
“Well…We were all here last night when they closed up. Becky said we could stay and gave us the key.” Ace scratched the back of his head before shaking his hair. “Well, we got on to talking and then we watched some TV and then…yeah.”
“Anything productive happen?”
“Define ‘productive’…”
Kaydirt blinked several times before taking a turn to speak. “We were on the cupcake thing for a while…and then Timechaser wanted to watch Iron Chef, so we all got distracted by that…Then we got some more work done. But we’re not going to meet the dea –” He stopped as an air of dread began to hang over the room. Reactions seemed to slow as the group stared at a whiteboard that hung on the wall. Their deadline was clear, written in red and accented by bold black marks.
“OH GOD THE DEADLINE!”
Weyward attacked the keyboard, Kaydirt hit the mouse in a rapid-fire sequence, Sangome scuttled to the printers before shooting off to the copy room, and Ace swung up to his feet and dashed to the hallway before tearing his way upstairs. Shinmaru dove for a computer and waved the mouse violently while Katana leapt for an outlet and ripped her laptop from her bag.
“…Something…going on?” Timechaser asked in a lazy slur. Shinmaru bolted out of his chair and slammed Timechaser’s face into the keyboard, which seemed to neither hurt nor help the situation.
