The Cafe

The pilot had wandered into one of the few cafes in the small town that was located near the facility. He had a hankering for a nice cup of iced coffee, a drink he usually drank before air shows. Since there was no shows to put on, never mind even an aircraft to fly, he thought it would be a nice remembrance. The memory of something he would perhaps never have in the afterlife, contrary to his first belief that heaven would be anything he wanted.

After ordering from a seemingly nonexistent barista, he sat down at one of the tables nearest to the windows. It was queer, the entire cafe was vacant, even of employees. There was a faded sign on the ordering counter that read: To order, yell out your order. After doing so, Maverick was surprised to see his drink floating around as if being made by some phantom.

“Uh, thanks,” he had said to no one in particular. He grabbed his cold coffee and sat at the table, confused. Although, certainly a phantom barista was not the strangest thing he had experience so far in this “godhood” thing. His mint green bangs flopped in front of his brown eyes; he brushed the locks away, sighing and staring at the floating bricks of ice in the dark liquid.

She strode inside the café, only to take pause at just how...barren the whole place was. There was one guy there at least, staring down into his cup like it held the secrets of the universe, but that was it. No barista in sight, no other patrons, nada. Weird. Cole's eyes caught sight of the sign at the counter: "to order, yell out your order." Baffled, she wandered up, and rapped her knuckles against the counter.

"Uh. I'd like a vanilla latte, if you don't mind?"

Like magic, that seemed to do it. Cole watched, bemused, as the ingredients flew behind the counter, going this way and that, mixing together to make her drink. Even after the latte was set in front of her, she could only stand there for a moment, before registering that the little show had wrapped up.

"Uh, thanks," Cole said, in an unknowing echo of Maverick. She glanced around the coffee shop, and ultimately made her way over to the one occupied table in the shop. "This seat taken?"

The young man looked up, letting his aviator goggles slip back into his green locks. He shook his head in reply, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. His outfit was a casual one, turtleneck with his brown flight jacket, ripped jeans tucked into his combat boots. His jacket was adorned with a Flying Devils pin, a sign of his occupation, as he was a member when he was alive. All loose clothing, comfortable as he felt no reason to not be, unless it was a show. It was clear the man was a former pilot, perhaps feeling a bit… grounded at the moment.

Maverick was quiet, a sense of longing had gripped him temporarily. He longed for the skies, evident in his gazing towards the blue above. He swished the coffee before taking a deep sip, glancing at the stranger. The man realized he must’ve come across as rude, the moody silence greeting the other as they sat down. He gave an apologetic smile.

“Ah, sorry, mah name’s Maverick, but ya can call me Mav,” he greeted finally, extending a hand.

"Cool, thanks." Cole slid into the seat, placing her latte gently on the table in front of her. The flight jacket didn't go unnoticed by her. Nor did the pin, nor did the goggles, nor the sad, longing look up and the skies, and- yeah, it didn't take much to put two and two together about what kind of a person the guy'd been before his death.

Once the guy had come back to earth (ha ha), she grinned, reaching to take the hand in her own. Her handshake was firm, but not harsh. "It's fine. Nice meeting you, Mav. I'm Colette, but everyone just calls me Cole."

She pulled back, swirling her straw with the tip of her finger. "I'm guessing you must be a big fan of flying, huh? Are you a stuntman?"

The man gave a grateful smile, silently appreciating her understanding of his better late than never introduction. He furrowed his brows, a hand resting against his cheek before a sigh escaped his thin lips. It was more of an embarrassed expression the young man held, a faint rosy color brushing his cheeks. He took another swig of the cold coffee, crunching methodically on the bits of ice.

“Ya, is it that obvious?” The pilot asked sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Part of a travelin’ air show, so’s ta speak. Doin’ all kinds o’ acts, if ta pay’s good.” At this, he nodded to his lapel, the pin glittering in the sun. It was simple, three planes connected by airstreams coming from bid bold lettering, outlined by some sort of brass or gold plating.

“Flyin’ runs in ta fam,” Maverick explained, not providing any more information. He felt as if he were over sharing and perhaps boring the other, so he opted to ask about her instead. “Wha’bout ya? Got any ‘obbies?”

"I mean, it was that, or you were /super/ dedicated to the aesthetic." Cole grinned, taking another swig from her own latte. "That's impressive, though. The only time I've ever flown anywhere was in, like, commercial airlines and hot air balloons and stuff. I'd had skydiving on my bucket list, but...you know. Can't really get around to that now, huh?"

She brightened. "I had a lot of hobbies, yeah. I was big into entomology- I'd been considering it as a course of study at some point. I hiked a lot, climbed a lot, was into swing dancing...and fashion, obviously."

Cole gestured to herself, then with some pride, added, "I made this outfit, you know. I was in uni for fashion design." Outside of the whole ghost barista thing, the conversation felt remarkably normal. They were just two people who met at a cafe, getting to know each other.

It was a slight relief to Maverick when he realized the other understood his slight accent. There were always moments where he’d have to repeat himself when meeting new people, especially those who weren’t accustomed to his way of talking. Luckily, it wasn’t a thick accent but more of a faint twang- a mark that he grew up in some far off region. He nodded as he listened to Cole, giving a soft chuckle.

“Ah, I would’a offered ta take ya skydivin’ if I hads mah babe,” he remarked sadly. It was clear he spoke about his plane, referring to it as “his babe.” Oh, how he missed her so. “Could’a taught ya.”

He raised an eyebrow, assessing the handiwork of the other’s work she wore. He personally was never into fashion, but he could appreciate the effort it took to create and model in that occupation. “T’ats impressive. Never knews much ‘bout sewin’ n’ anythin’. Usually mah Ma or sis be doin’ that,” the pilot admitted, gesturing to the patches on his very worn flight jacket. There were subtle sewn patches of fabric that most likely covered tears or holes in the cloth.

"That's a shame. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I haven't really seen or heard about any airports here, so I figure you can't really rent a smaller plane either."

Cole took a deep, sudden chug out of her latte. "Did you have any other passions outside of piloting? You seem like the kind of guy who's all about carpeing that diem."

The young man listened quietly, nodding ever so often to assure the other of his attention. He occasionally took a sip of his coffee, swirling it around in its see-through container. The ice clattered and clicked against each other, rattling softly underneath the conversation. It was a pleasantly calm atmosphere, despite both being in a foreign land under strange circumstances. It was a nice change, a small remembrance of the life they once lived.

He raised an eyebrow at the question, pausing the swirling of his cup to think for a moment. Maverick had always been into planes as a child, and this certainly didn’t lessen as he grew older, his interest actually grew with him. Unlike his older brother, he was not into the workings, the math and physics of flying planes, rather, it was what you could do with them. An adrenaline junkie, some would say, a dangerous hobby of parkour and train hopping. He kept the hobby of building model airplanes, his room being filled with, some even ended up attached to the ceiling.

“Ah, mah ‘obbies… I likes model airplanes,” he admitted, looking out the window. “Parkourin’ n’ stunts, ya get?”

Immediately, Cole found herself breaking out in a grin. Her eyes gleamed like amber. "'Parkouring and stunts', huh? You know, I've always been a big fan of that kind of thing, myself."

She took another hearty swig from her latte, savoring it. "I did a lot of climbing and stuff. I had a motorcycle too- I didn't do any crazy stunts or it or anything, cause I spent a fortune on it, but it could go fast. It was this cherry red Suzuki Hayabusa- gorgeous thing."

She frowned. "Man. I miss that motorbike. It was always such a power move to bring guys on... What kind of stunts did you do? I imagine you did stuff in your plane obviously, but did you do anything else?"

The young man arched an eyebrow, a smile crept to his face. It was nice to meet a fellow adrenaline junkie, someone who enjoyed the dangerous side of life. He leaned forward, urging the conversation to continue as he swirled the now almost empty cup around. The brown eyes twinkled with the shared interest of adventure.

“I wasn’ inta’ them bikes, wasn’ mah thing,” Maverick said, drumming his fingers on the table. He never rode on one, never really got the chance as he was always preoccupied with piloting and preferred to drive when needed. His time was limited, clearly. Though this did not deter his interest in the vehicles, which always seemed so tipsy and yet the speeds in which they could go was mesmerizing. He chuckled at the comment about getting guys via the motorcycle.

“O’her thans air stunts, huh.. well, I dids some mercenary stuffs, anythin’ I could get mah hands on. Like, uh, a wide varieties,” he explained, rattling the ice leftover in his cup. “Usually involvin’ parkour or train hoppin’.”

"Well, not all of us can go for a plane ride whenever we want, Maverick. Don't be so insensitive." With a playful smile, Cole knocked back the rest of her latte, setting the glass neatly on the table.

She perked up. "Train hopping, huh? You know, that was also on my bucket list. I never got around to it cause I didn't really grow up around trains, and my friends would always go 'are you literally insane' if I ever brought it up. So."

Cole paused. "Let's go back to the 'mercenary' thing real quick, though. What do you mean by that?"

Maverick gave a chuckle, giving a quiet apology for his “insensitivity.” He liked this woman, their shared interests and similar humor wasn’t overlooked in the conversation. It dawned on him how not everyone was allowed to do dangerous things like him, acknowledging Cole’s friends who warned against doing crazy stunts. The location in which others lived at were also different, changing circumstances and opportunities. He had lived decently close to the railroads, thus making hopping more accessible.

“Oh, ya know, masked stunt performers n’ dids some bouncin’ at some clubs,” Maverick explained, nodding slowly. It was true he didn’t always get the crazy stunt jobs he wanted or not even ones associated with crazy things. He really took up any job offered to him, within reason, he became a temporary security guard and bouncer for many one-time events. These jobs mainly started cropping up when his air shows were out of season, during the winter months. Due to his large-ish frame, he was intimidating enough to be a bouncer as well as fit enough to keep up with the jobs.

“None that crimes n’ stuff,” he added quickly, giving an apologetic grin. He realized how badly he had worded his previous sentences, mercenary could be taken any way. His arms crossed, leaning against the table. “I’m a cleans man.”

Cole considered Maverick. "I believe you," she said. "I know I just met you, but you don't really strike me as the 'cold-hearted criminal' type."

At most, he seemed like the type to get into a couple of scraps here and there- especially if, like he himself admitted, you wound up acting as a bouncer here and there. You could be the nicest, gentlest guy on the block, but there were some people out there who both needed to get booted out of clubs and the like, and who also weren't all too pleased to be booted out.

"I didn't have any wild jobs or anything," she said. "I applied to be a model once to get some extra cash on the side, but they weren't a fan of the dyed hair, and I wasn't going to lose it. Plus, I think they were hoping for someone on the waifish side, which was another point out of my favor."

She rested her chin against the back of her hand. "You know, I got your name, but I don't think I got your domain. What if we make it interesting, and take a guess at what the other's thing is? Figure it'll make things more interesting than going through the usual song and dance, at least."

Maverick raised an eyebrow, looking the woman up and down once more upon the arrival of the words “model.” She wasn’t bad looking, though that was just from he saw. His personal taste was different than those recruiters. Model agencies were fickle with applicants, that was just the industry. In reply, he shook his head, mumbling something about “their loss” or something.

“Oh! My domain’s Exhilaration, wha’s yer’s?” Maverick replied, perking up at the opportunity to talk more about his hobbies. He then realized this conversation was not all about him and rather just getting to know the other, hence his addition.

"Exactly. I'm hot as all hell." There was no doubt in Cole's voice. She was unsure about a lot of things- the whole "deity" thing, for one- but when it came to her looks and her skills, she had no shortage of confidence. It was the most important accessory anyone could wear, after all.

She crossed her legs. "'Exhilaration', huh? I'm not surprised- you definitely seem like you'd be the god of all the adrenaline junkies out there." Though the cup was empty, Cole continued to spin her straw as she spoke, swirling the melting ice cubes against the glass.

"I'm 'Focus', myself. My favorite joke about it so far's that I'm the patron of all the dying college students out there." She flashed that grin of hers again. "They offered me "Swift" before that, but I felt like if I took that one, I would've been put on messenger duty for the rest of forever."

The pilot chuckled at the confident remark, appreciating the woman’s lack of doubt when it came to her own appearance. He respected the pure confidence she had, not many people held such bravo. As a showman himself, he possessed such confidence in his himself, although to a more humble degree he liked to think. He leaned back in the rather uncomfortable cafe chair, hands placed behind his head in a relaxed manner.

“Ah, focus’s pretty sick domain,” Maverick said, grinning. “So, ya also denied ya first offer. Tried ta place ‘Ambition’ on me, ain’t takin’ that.” He shrugged, his grin quickly replaced with a frown but disappeared as soon as it appeared. It was curious to him, that even in godhood, they could defy the interviewers by denying the domain they were first given. A reassuring thought that not everything here was pre-made and unchanging.

He leaned forward again, seemingly getting antsy from all this talk. He was one to be in constant movement, perhaps assisted by his newly founded domain. Exhilaration wasn’t particularly clear on what form it would be taking as his domain, it was all a surprise for the pilot and everyone else. Maverick did hope he’d be able to fly again, just to touch the sky and soar through the clouds, just once more.

Cole waggled her fingers. "Tremble before me, mortals. If you cross me, I'll curse you with the attention span of a goldfish." She grinned toothily back. "I get the feeling I'm not going to be making it into any mythology textbooks anytime soon, but at least I make for a great study buddy."

She raised a brow. "Ambition, huh? You know, that's not half bad a domain, but I can see why you pushed for something else. Again, I don't really know you, but "Exhilaration" seems to fit you a lot better... How about we walk and talk?"

The young man couldn’t help but laugh at jest of her domain. He genuinely enjoyed her company, finding a liking to her boisterous and go-to attitude, which was similar to his own. Although liking her teasing attitude, the pilot got the feeling that she was not one to mess with whenever she was serious and opted not to anger her. He gave a shrug, hanging an arm around the top of the chair while also trying not to lean back too far.

“Hah! Right? I ain’t dissin’ ‘mbition or nothin’ but ya knows me at least enough ta know it ain’t really me,” Maverick agreed, combing a few fingers through his mint green hair. There was a faint waft of mint from came from his locks, but certainly not enough to confirm that’s where the scent was coming from. The hair dyed at the time of death, but now it just looked natural, perhaps just a byproduct of dying and being reborn as a god.

He watched the other sudden stand, most likely noticing his own twitchiness to move. He gave a grateful smile, rising to his feet as well, hand gripping his empty cup. The remaining ice rattled against the plastic siding before he trotted over to the trash and throwing it in. Maverick glanced at the unoccupied counter, furrowing his brows in concern.

“Er, how’dya pay?” He shouted before strutting over to the counter, pausing after realizing he had no money. Patting his pockets to express his situation, he gave Cole an awkward glance. Just before he started saying something else, a strong gust of wind blew from behind the counter. He felt a sheet of paper slap his face, which he curiously grabbed and looked at it. There appeared to be a message scrawled in messy handwriting on the paper, large and in an unpleasant highlighter yellow.

“So, we don’t pay ‘parently.”