Tales of Blood Clot Cafe

Just Another Weekend Night

Inside the windowless cafe, the scent of blood was not the only thing that hung in the air. Whispers and rumours, gossip and tales - all these filled the enclosed space that was the cafe interior. And whether they were meant to be heard or not, a certain pair of ears caught them all.

And those ears belonged to a certain barista hunched behind the counter. Her name was Abigail. And for some time, she had been working at Bloodclot Cafe. For an even longer time, she had been existing. She had been listening.

Her auburn wig barely hid the pointed bat-like ears that protruded from the sides of her head. Although emerald eyes kept their gaze on the cup of blood she was currently saturating with caffeine, her attention wandered. From one end of the room to another, she could hear whatever she wanted. All she had to do was swivel her ears oh-so-slightly , turning her attention from one table to another.

"Have you read the new chapter of -" Whoops, not gossip. She switched her attention to another corner of the room.

"Woah, where'd you download that-" Boring. Next table.

"Ugh! Can you believe she did that?"

Oh? This caught the barista's attention. Who did what now? She mentally crossed her fingers for something good, something juicy.

"How the hell am I supposed to fix this mess?" The customer continued. "I mean, sure, the cops didn't find anything but-"

Ahem.

AHEM

Abigail's attention was brought back to where she stood - behind a counter and under the impatient glare of a customer aggressively clearing his throat at her. Oh right. The blood. She supposed it was caffeinated and sweetened enough. Probably a bit too much, but hey he did ask for it to be as "strong and sweet" as possible.

"Ah, sorry about that sir." She took the man's order slip and handed the beverage over to him. She had barely tuned back in to the only thing tonight that came close to being interesting, when she heard another set of footsteps approach the counter.

Abigail let out a barely audible sigh and looked up to find a face concealed by a huge woolen scarf and a pair of dark sunglasses. The rest of their body was clad in a thick long coat. Totally not suspicious at all.

"Welcome, how may I help you?"

A muffled voice spoke up from behind the scarf, straining hard to sound unrecognizable. "One cup of dog's blood, please."

The barista squinted. "Medium or large?"

"Large," a clawed finger rose to adjust the shades on the stranger's face.

Or were they a stranger? They did smell awfully familiar. That's right, smell. Being the animalistic-type, Abigail didn't just excel in picking up gossip. She picked up scents too. And this person smelled a lot like cat and ... a very familiar brand of perfume?

"Anything else?"

"No thanks. Oh wait- maybe some sugar? Like, just a little bit?"

"Right, one large cup of dog. Mildly sweetened." Abigail knitted her brows together. The fake voice the other was putting up was slipping. "Are you sure you'd rather not have cat? It goes well with alcohol, or so I've heard."

"What? No, of-of course not!" Sweat was forming on what could be seen of the customer's brow.

The barista sighed. Then leaning over the counter, hissed "Vanessa, I know that's you."

"Van- who now? I don't know that name!"

"You know you're banned in here."

"Aw c'mon. Have a heart, will ya?" The heavily concealed figure wasn't even trying to disguise her voice anymore. "That was one time!"