Well, it's not a bar.
Who: Tyki and Allen.
When: Friday, July 30th.
Where: Cafe #34, over by Unnamed Street.
Summary: It's a small city. They tend to run into each other even in a big world. A small city had nothing on coincidences.
Warnings: Copious amounts of food and a tiny bit of Tyki.
It was a nice place, with wooden tables and a wooden floor, high-backed metal chairs and a smudged-up glass casing around the pastries in the front. Only about three people managed it - a middle aged couple and their lone young employee - but it found a fair amount of business. That might have had something to do with how it was one of the better low-priced shops in the sector, on a relatively safe street in a relatively good neighborhood. It wasn't pristine, of course (there were a few holes in the wall and the wallpaper was peeling yellow up in one of the corners), but it was nice.
It was also one of the few cafes that would serve unlimited ham in the morning and allow sit-ins.
Allen was currently one of those sit-ins, rolls in one gloved hand and what might have once been the entire hind quarter of a pig in the other. Yes, he was very content, feet hooked around the legs of his chair and back straight, elbows out. That would be prime snacking position, for the uninformed.
Sure, he might've looked a bit on the tired side, but really, it wasn't anything compared to what he'd been used to doing. The lack of work was unnerving in a few ways, but not in this one-- that is, wolfing down plate after plate of food with the occasional break for a cup of tea. The couple that managed the store had learned his face by the first day he'd walked in (it was rather memorable), but they hadn't really expected to have to always get ready to close early as he depleted all of their stocks. He would've felt bad about that if he hadn't made sure to put in a few extra dollars whenever he came around.
So it was safe to say that sitting off alone in a corner, surrounded by the smell of coffee and bread, Timcanpy fluttering aimlessly by the windows, was most certainly on the top of Allen's "relaxing, happy places" list. He was proud to keep it that way, too.
When: Friday, July 30th.
Where: Cafe #34, over by Unnamed Street.
Summary: It's a small city. They tend to run into each other even in a big world. A small city had nothing on coincidences.
Warnings: Copious amounts of food and a tiny bit of Tyki.
It was a nice place, with wooden tables and a wooden floor, high-backed metal chairs and a smudged-up glass casing around the pastries in the front. Only about three people managed it - a middle aged couple and their lone young employee - but it found a fair amount of business. That might have had something to do with how it was one of the better low-priced shops in the sector, on a relatively safe street in a relatively good neighborhood. It wasn't pristine, of course (there were a few holes in the wall and the wallpaper was peeling yellow up in one of the corners), but it was nice.
It was also one of the few cafes that would serve unlimited ham in the morning and allow sit-ins.
Allen was currently one of those sit-ins, rolls in one gloved hand and what might have once been the entire hind quarter of a pig in the other. Yes, he was very content, feet hooked around the legs of his chair and back straight, elbows out. That would be prime snacking position, for the uninformed.
Sure, he might've looked a bit on the tired side, but really, it wasn't anything compared to what he'd been used to doing. The lack of work was unnerving in a few ways, but not in this one-- that is, wolfing down plate after plate of food with the occasional break for a cup of tea. The couple that managed the store had learned his face by the first day he'd walked in (it was rather memorable), but they hadn't really expected to have to always get ready to close early as he depleted all of their stocks. He would've felt bad about that if he hadn't made sure to put in a few extra dollars whenever he came around.
So it was safe to say that sitting off alone in a corner, surrounded by the smell of coffee and bread, Timcanpy fluttering aimlessly by the windows, was most certainly on the top of Allen's "relaxing, happy places" list. He was proud to keep it that way, too.