In the Shadows We Fight (for justice and ourselves)

What Are the Odds?

The cafe was freezing. His arm was bare with burns from oil that had been poured on it. His shirt was covered in all-purpose flour, and he was pretty sure that a piece of a tomato was stuck to his shoes. He knew for sure that his jeans were a size too small with more rips than fashionably acceptable and splotches of mud. His hair was sticking up all over the place with knots that were visible from across the room. His stomach would rumble every few seconds. Wadded up cash was poking out of his fist from the arm that wasn't burned.

And the person in front of him in line would not fucking order. Tommy had been there for ten minutes and 42 seconds, and the teenager that had been standing at the counter would not tell the cashier what he wanted. All the guy did was stare blankly at the paper menu that customers could take home to order from. The cashier didn't look disheartened or impatient. They had a polite smile with their hands folded on top of the counter. Neither the cashier nor the customer had moved much in the past ten minutes, and Tommy was 100% sure that they were pranking him. That had to be it. They were trying to push his buttons. They probably wanted him to yell in the cafe.

Tommy pushed the teenager aside. Not a nudge but a full on shove. Once at the counter, Tommy slammed the money down on the counter. The cashier looked surprise, but they didn't jump back with nerves. Tommy did a once over of the customer that was before him before looking at the cashier. "My friend-" His teeth clenched. "wants a muffin. A chocolate muffin with no nuts. I would like a coffee. One that gives me enough fucking energy to deal with their bullshit!" Tommy pointed an accusatory finger at the customer while keeping his eyes on the cashier.

"One chocolate muffin and one espresso, coming right up! Will that be all for tonight?" The cashier asked. Their name-tag read Niki. They remained polite enough even when Tommy knew he was acting like an asshole. Niki looked at the stranger Tommy shoved for their answer. Tommy looked as well. They had a funny appearance, Tommy decided. Their skin was split down the middle with one side chalk white and the other obsidian black. They had a green eye the color of grass, and the other eye looked like blood dripping off a ruby. Their hair was in similar fashion to their skin, but a few hairs were thrown about down the middle part to mess up the straight-laced appearance. To make matters worse, they were wearing a tuxedo. A full three-piece suit in a cafe when it was nearly midnight. It didn't help they were tall as fuck. Taller than Tommy and probably older. Tommy already knew he hated the guy.

"Uhh... y-yes, thank- thank you," The person said after blinking rapidly, their attention switching between Niki and Tommy. The former gave them both a nice smile as they went around getting the muffin and making the espresso. Tommy turned to glare at the stranger. The person flushed a purple hue before they began talking. "I'm Ranboo. It's nice to meet you."

"Ranboob," Tommy muttered with complete seriousness. Tommy turned the name around in his head, testing it out before he came to the conclusion that the hybrid in front of him was part Enderman and probably raised in that environment, too. Well, someone had to teach Ranboo a lesson. "Look here, buddy, at food places, we don't take ten fucking minutes to figure out what we want. You should know what you want when you're at the counter. If you don't, let the next person go. In fact, you should always let me go in front of you because I'm superior to you. Understand, Ranboo?"

Despite his patronizing tone, Ranboo nodded along like he believed in what Tommy was saying. Tommy could get used to being listened to. Niki, on the other hand, wasn't going to let Ranboo be so easily duped. "Oh, don't listen to him, dear. You weren't hurting anything. Some people just need to learn patience."