allthatgoes | this really doesn't have context

The music that played in the shops, she didn't understand.

The methods to it were entirely unfamilliar; it wasn't anything she'd heard from the Domali twins, or even from the curious Claire Rafael. It also wasn't anything like what had been termed 'muzak,' no, the song was entirely unfamilliar, and so was its genre. A sign on the desk claimed that this was "Willie Nelson: brought to you by Hear Music and Starbucks Entertainment," but she wasn't entirely sure what that meant, either.

Tess knew she shouldn't have told Cassandra she'd be okay doing shopping on her own.

"Could I just get a small, please?" she asked the man at the counter – the man whose nametag said he was called Jeremy, and who was quite obviously as interested in her voice as everyone else had been that day.

Where are you from, they kept asking her, and she kept lying, and saying New Zealand, because she had been told it was, in this world, the closest accent to her own. She had been taught by her older sister how to lie with a smile, and it helped.

"A small?" Jeremy at the counter asked, apparently resisting the urge to try the question. "A small what?"

"Coffee," she said, definitively. At least she knew the answer to that question.

"What kind of coffee?"

Suddenly, Tess was lost again. So much for confidence – she didn't know there was another kind of coffee she'd had to worry about. Her eyes scanned the board, quickly,a nd all she saw were more and more words that didn't make any sense.

"Never mind. Could I just have a cup of water?"

Jeremy blinked at her, a sly smile on his face. "You're not from around here, are you?"

There it was.

"No," she said, with an uncertain laugh. "No, I'm really not."

He went on to explain to her that you couldn't quite get a cup of water; she needed to buy a bottle of water from the freezer or get her water somewhere else. And that she couldn't get a soda pop, either, because Starbucks didn't sell simple things like soda pop. They didn't sell simple waters, either, only fancy mineral water.

Eventually, Tess left with a tea of some strange kind and a dry piece of breadlike substance she couldn't bring herself to actually call a croissant. She had been given croissants before, mostly by Veltkaine and the Domalis, and this was not a croissant, it was flaky, funny-shaped bread.

She hoped they'd be proud of her snobbery when it was reported back.

She'd made it about four doors down on the town street when a shop caught her eye. Its name was nowhere on the front, and it had been a while since she'd seen a shop with no proper name at all like those in her home of Domantri. Opening the door, she found to her satisfaction there was no strange sort of music in the background – the door only opened with a jingle.

Inside was a bookstore.

That, itself, was refreshing enough, and she shot the shopkeeper a small, shy smile – he barely looked up from the book he was reading at the desk, seemingly long enough to find out if she needed anything or was just looking around.

(Tess noted, to her own nervousness, that his eyes were grey.)

He didn't speak, having determined she didn't need anything – his expression actually grew sort of dark when he saw the tea and bag in her hand. She wasn't sure why, and didn't ask. No need to let him hear her strange accent and start the exchange all over again.

And so she browsed the shop, for a while – she browsed the shop until she grew comfortable with herself and with her surroundings, which, she thought, might be nice. To have somewhere to visit from time to time. She even noticed the place had a small coffee shop-like-area of its own, which could be another plus. Maybe they would even sell her a small cup of coffee, black, like the Starbucks place had refused to do.

Just as things were getting nice, though, the curse of Tess getting used to anywhere set in, and, while walking by a nice display of contemporary European poetry, she lost her footing.

Right into the display of contemporary European poetry.

The next thing she knew, the shopkeeper was very gently picking up his books, sounding worried – the books, after all, came first, which was admirable, he cared about his craft – and then, once he noticed her, actually spoke.

"Oh dear, I hadn't seen that anyone was actually here," he said, in a voice with a slight lilt that wasn't American, for all she was sure that he actually was. "Are you all right? Can I help you?"

Despite how he'd been glaring daggers at her tea, he seemed to actually care.

He had very, very nice eyes.

"I – I'm fine, yeah, this happens all the time," she said, quietly. "I'm quite a clutz, despite –"

Despite being an air mage was not a good thing to say.

"Despite?" he asked.

"Being a dancer," she finished, which was at least actually true and didn't sound crazy.

The shopkeeper did not try to make smalltalk and ask about her career, which she appreciated. One, because she wouldn't have to lie about it, and two, because he had very, very nice eyes.

It made him hard to talk to.

He offered her a hand up, and she took it, despite the fact she could've simply floated off the ground if she'd wanted to. She smiled shyly at him, and apologized for knocking over the display.

"Were you looking for anything in particular?" he asked.

"No," she said, "nothing much."

She could never go in there again.

She'd made a complete mess.

"Oh," he replied. "All right, then."

He still had very, very nice eyes, and Tess didn't really want to walk off without findout out anything about him. On the other hand – on the other hand, she had just made giant mess in his store.

On the other hand –

"Actually," she asked, "do you think I could get a small cup of coffee, black?"