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Cloud dropped a bunch of coffee beans inside the filter, never knowing the proper amount the coffee machine required.
But today, Cloud didn’t care.
He just needed a high dosage of caffeine running through his bloodstream, because today, Cloud was on desk duty at the Watcher Shack and he hated this part of the job more than he hated holding a conversation with Johnny.
Cloud started the coffee machine. Brewing noises bounced off the walls while a bitter scent tickled his nose, and his body shivered with anticipation.
His body only reacted in a similar fashion when Cloud was entering a battle, seconds away from brandishing his buster sword. In the Watcher Shack, however, Cloud didn’t solve conflicts with his weapon, only with his words.
And that was an ability he did not possess and could not, unfortunately, equipped.
Cloud crossed his arms and leaned against the desk that stood in the middle of the room. Sector 7 Slums Watcher Shack was comprised of one small room, which contained all the necessary utilities from a toilet, a sink, and a bunch of cups that were as mismatched as the Watchers.
He took a deep breath and watched the coffee drop into the pot, the view quite relaxing.
Cloud’s job at the Watcher Shack included greeting people and providing help to those in needs. And dealing with people, well, it wasn’t Cloud’s cup of tea. For some reasons, he always ended-up insulting or scaring people away, which made him wondered.
Did he even have what it took to be a Watcher?
Cloud grabbed an empty mug, which displayed a moogle riding a chocobo, and he poured himself a cup of coffee. He took a sip and cringed at the taste. This coffee was way too strong, even for his peculiar taste buds.
As long as it did the job, however, Cloud wouldn’t complain.
Cloud kept sipping his coffee in silence when an old lady shouted a greeting, startling him to the point that he dropped coffee on the already-dirty floor. Cloud spun around, a scowl crossing his face. This old lady possessed incredible stealth skills, and he didn’t know if he had to feel impressed or horrified.
Probably both, actually.
“What do you want?” snapped Cloud, settling his cup of coffee on the desk.
“I’ll have a large cup of coffee, please.” The old lady’s voice was shaking as much as her frail body.
“Say what?”
“A. Large. Cup. Of. Coffee,” repeated the old lady, raising her voice as if Cloud had hearing problems.
A frown appeared on Cloud’s forehead. “This ain’t a coffee shop.”
“Yes, yes.” The old lady nodded, her enthusiasm apparent. “This is a coffee shop. Can I have my coffee now? Black.”
“But…” sputtered Cloud, lost for words.
“How much?” The old lady cast Cloud an eager look, her eyes sparkling with joy.
Cloud grunted, rubbing the back of his head. Cloud had seen a lot of special cases since he joined the Neighborhood Watch, but this scenario was a first. Yet, it wasn’t as bad as when someone blasted their door open with explosives.
Wait. That was Jessie.
Cloud fetched a clean cup into which he poured coffee, and he handed the cup to the old lady. “It’s on the house.”
The old lady seized the cup with her wobbly hand and took a sip, a content sigh escaping her lips. “Best coffee I’ve had in a very long time.”
“Really?!”
She nodded, offering Cloud a bright smile. “Great service here. I’ll definitely come back.”
Cloud watched the old lady exit the Watcher Shack, confusion gripping his mind. She liked both the coffee and the service?
Maybe Cloud wasn’t such a bad Watcher after all. All he had to do was listen to people, satisfy their needs. And to accomplish that, Cloud didn’t need people skills.
He only needed to care about them.
Cloud sat at the desk and took another sip of his coffee, cringing again. He might not be as terrible of a Watcher as he first assumed, but his coffee skills were worst than Barret’s attitude when he was tired and hungry. And if the old lady started visiting the Watcher Shack on a regular basis, he’d better improve his craft unless he wanted to give her a heart attack.
Because the batch of coffee he just prepared?
Simply terrible.