Chapter Text
There was a line today, it was a small cafe that had no hipster attracting gimmick so it never often had a line. Dorian had been here a couple of times to feed his caffeine addiction before work, often when his regular coffee shop was packed to the brim. He may like fine coffee, but he refused to wait for more than ten minutes to get it, so on those days he got mediocre coffee at the creatively named ‘Haven Coffee.’ (The shop was on Haven street) The line at his regular was even longer so he stayed and as he gotten closer to the front if the line he heard many of the same questions being asked over and over again.
“Are those real?”
“Did those hurt?”
“Are you from the wilds?”
A male voice would answer each time, it wasn’t familiar, it wasn’t one of the usual morning baristas, (Dorian was put off by the better coffee house’s lines often) Cassandra, a tough woman with an accent, or Sera, an interesting young elven lady who was horrible at her job.
No, this voice wasn’t familiar in the slightest, but the man seemed to be quite an interest by how many questions people asked him. All Dorian could see where he was standing was a full head of blond locks so he had to wait to get a look at the new guy which was infuriating.
In what felt like forever as the last person in the line of the morning coffee rush, the ridiculously large man (the man probably had some Qunari blood somewhere in his bloodline) in front of him received his order and moved out of the way.
Dorian was caught off guard by what he saw; the new barista was elven, that was obvious with the thin frame and exceptionally long pointed ears, but what surprised Dorian was his face. The elf had wolfish yellow eyes with irises rimmed with orange and he had intricate tattoos inked into his face. Getting facial tattoos like the Dalish had become a controversial hipster fashion lately, but by the way the elf held himself and by the way an old scar cut through his very real tattoos, Dorian knew he was looking at the real deal.
“Sir, are you going to order?” The Dalish barista sounded and looked annoyed.
“Ah, yes a moment please,” the wild eyes of the elf rolled. Dorian planned to order his usual, but a couple moments of admiring this unique creature was hard to resist. He had dark black tattoos across the bridge of his nose to his entire forehead (He assumed that it was symmetrical since hair covered around half of his forehead), all the lines were connected except the black lines which were under his lip and a spot above his brow in which a scar left a gap. The man also had rather pretty hair for a so called elven savage, it traveled past his jaw in length with slight waves. It definitely was well cared for.
“Dorian!” An accented and stern voice cut through the dark haired man’s observations. He supposed he might had been at this tiny little cafe more than once, since the workers did know his name and usual order by heart. (Since Dorian was tired of being called ‘the picky asshole with a moustache’) “What are doing antagonizing the new guy!?” Cassandra got irritated very quickly or at least she always sounded irritated by her accent.
“I’m just curious,” Dorian smiled like a cat who got the cream
With a dirty look Casssandra turned to the elf, “Shall I take this order for you?”
“No, I need to learn how to deal with more than just this annoying shemlen,” his accent only came up when he uttered an elven word; he also spoke softly, but still loud enough that Dorian would hear.
“Very well, his usual order is a nonfat, no-whip, Mocha with milk and an espresso shot. ” The woman listed off an obnoxiously long order and the Dalish man pulled a face.
“Is that what you’ll be having today, sir?” The elf’s words were polite, but Dorian could tell he was holding off a scowl.
“Let’s go with something different today!” The moustache man said with faked cheeriness, “How about a low fat latte, with an extra espresso shot and skim milk, to go.” The Tevinter man belted off a different order that elf made a face at.
“That will be 4.50 sir.” The elf sounded like he rehearsed the lines over and over again.
Dorian passed the elf a five dollar bill, “Keep the change.” The elf gave the Mage another less than amused glance before going off to prepare the coffee. He turned his attention to Cassandra who watched the entire transaction, “What happened with service with a smile?”
“I have never offered that service.” Cassandra was as lovely as ever.
“Oh yes, I forgot that you are always this lovely.”
“I haven’t forgotten that-“
“Oh look, there’s my coffee!” The blond elf was rather quick at making drinks; he held out the disposable cup to the Tevinter man. Dorian took the cup; brushing his hand against the elf’s on purpose and his thin elven hand jerked away.
The elf’s intense yellow eyes focused on Dorian’s, “I hope you have a nice day,” the elf’s said flatly. They stared at each other for a time as if this was some sort of dominance thing, (the only things Dorian knew about Dalish culture was the tattoos and living in the forest like animals thing, so it could very well had been something) but Dorian was interrupted by his internal clock, if he lingered longer he would be later than acceptably late so he let the elf have this one.
“I hope you have a very nice day as well,” Dorian was being polite, but probably like everyone ever, the elf would likely take it as sarcasm. Dorian walked out the cafe’s door taking a sip of his coffee. It wasn’t at all what he ordered, it was sweeter and less creamier than what his complex order should have got him, but it was good. It was better than good. Dorian couldn't place the flavour to a name, he just hoped the secret ingredient wasn't elf spit.