Here's the next chapter of SWS, aka Jauney does Starbucks. It's a little earlier than usual today because I have to go and meet my nephew for something important. Anyway, a lot of people have been suggesting names for his café cum diner, and those are pretty cute. I've actually just had it called "Jaune's", as in that's the title Ruby reads above the door in the first chapter. That said, it's a fairly unoriginal name, and there's definitely scope for Jaune to change it later in the story.
Chapter 3
The change was so subtle he didn't notice it. Things continued as they usually did, with the same gangsters coming twice a day for coffee, and a few other regulars making their rounds in the mornings and at lunch. It wasn't an obvious thing, at least not at first. It wasn't until he'd come to deliver some cakes to a pair of young men that he realised things were changing at all.
"Thank you, kind sir," the large man said in a voice that was almost paradoxically soft. "I had heard about this venue from some friends of mine, and I'm glad to see they spoke the truth as to its quality."
"No problem," Jaune replied politely. He'd have always been polite to a man who looked to be seven feet tall and built of muscle, but in this case it honestly felt like it would have been a sin to be rude - almost like kicking a friendly dog. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourselves. And here's your cake, sir."
The dark-skinned male nodded and took the mug, then sipped it and paused before nodding again, this time with a tiny smile.
"We ought to bring Coco and Velvet here," the large man said. "What do you say, Fox?"
Fox, or at least the guy Jaune presumed was named such, nodded again and hummed something under his breath. It wasn't really an answer but it seemed enough for his friend, who relaxed into a seat far too small for him with a contented sigh.
"I have to go and serve some others. Feel free to grab my attention if you need anything."
"We shall. Thank you."
It wasn't anything about the two of them which tipped him off, and in fact, it was actually something he noticed as he left their table. To be honest, it probably should have been noticeable from the start.
After all, it wasn't exactly easy to miss the huge sword leaning against the table.
Not huge in the sense of a conventional two-handed weapon, but huge in the way that meant it was ridiculously over-sized for any purpose at all. Also, it was bright orange, which was equal parts pointless and bizarre. It made him pause and look around, and he started to notice that the other tables had signs of weapons by them, too.
There was the one in the corner where two girls were chatting animatedly. They looked only a little older than him, and quite pretty, but it was the handgun laid casually next to a menu that drew the eye. The other girl had a knife at her waist as well, and not a single person in the diner seemed put off by it. Not even an awkward glance towards the dangerously armed people filling his diner.
And why should they, when almost everyone else there was also armed to the teeth?
It was at that point he realised what had happened, even if he wasn't sure when or how.
He'd become a haunt for huntsmen.
Huh… fancy that.
It wasn't just students either, even if he was fairly sure those two guys from before were just that. There was a middle-aged man on his scroll by the window, sat atop one of the stools with a steaming mug of coffee before him. There was a collapsible spear propped up beside him. There was also a chatting group of four around a table who were almost certainly somewhere between twenty and thirty years old. Being near a wall, they'd leaned their weapons up against it – which really should have made him feel a little nervous, but somehow didn't.
Who was he to tell them how to look after their equipment? They knew it better than he did!
I'm not imagining this though, am I? There are so many more huntsmen and huntresses here, and now that I think about it, I've lost a lot of my regulars. The thought shocked him, and he looked around again just to be sure. There were one or two normal people, and they were easy to spot because they didn't look nearly as relaxed as the huntsmen. Still, it was nothing compared to the numbers he'd normally have at this time, and even though he'd gained ten or so new customers, it looked to have cost him ten old ones.
The diner was about as busy as it always was, but with different people to usual. It could have been a coincidence, but he doubted it… mostly because there were a few faces who dropped by every single morning without fail. Or they had, now that he thought about it, up until a day or two ago… which was about the time Team RWBY became regular customers. They must have spread the news about his diner. He smiled and made a note to thank Ruby for that.
Still, had that driven his old custom away? Why was that?
On a side note, maybe he should invest in a weapons rack or something. If he was going to have customers armed to the death, then he could at least take steps to accommodate them. Then again, given how expensive most huntsmen weapons were, maybe that would be too risky. He might have to get insurance for it, and he really couldn't afford to start messing around with stuff like that. Better to just stomach the awkwardness and move on.
The bell rang again as a new customer entered, or a set of customers this time. There were four in total, and these ones were definitely not students – two of them even having greying hair. As had happened the last few times the bell rang, every huntsmen in the diner looked to the door and touched their weapons, and as had happened every time before, they relaxed once it was safe and went back to their conversations.
Jaune let out a short sigh. I feel like some kind of person visiting a zoo. He laughed to himself and imagined a posh narrator's voice in his head. And here we have a wild herd of huntsmen in their natural habitat. See how even when at rest, they are painfully alert, and take the time to inspect any new members of the herd before relaxing. This is to ward off predators.
Though he wasn't sure what they'd count as predators in the middle of Vale. He shook his head and dispelled the thought, picking up four menus and carrying them out to the people as they settled around a table by the front window. It was a good spot with a commanding view of the street, and even though he probably could have fit another table and four chairs in there, he knew his customers liked having the extra space to stretch their legs and get comfortable.
"Here you go," he said, handing the menus to the three men and one woman. "If you know what you'd like, I'll be happy to take your order, or I can come back in a few moments if you'd prefer."
"Are you the owner here?" the woman asked. She was stern-faced with blonde hair and green eyes. She immediately made him think of a teacher, and also that he'd forgotten to do his homework.
"I-I am," he said, and then cringed at his stutter. "Is there a problem I can help with?"
"No, of course not…" She looked down to her menu. "I was simply curious."
"Please forgive my colleague. She's had a busy day." It was the white-haired man who apologised with a charismatic smile. He wore a green suit and had an odd set of glasses over his eyes. "I will have a cup of coffee, please."
Jaune blinked.
"What kind?"
"What kinds do you have?"
"Well, we've got fifty individual blends and beans, and that's not including the different ways I can make it. If you have a favourite brand or flavour, I can…" Jaune paused. "Um, sir…? Are you okay?"
"Don't mind me," the man wheezed. His eyes were shut, his face pointed to the side. A tear ran down his cheek. "I was simply overwhelmed by emotion for a moment."
"Okaaay…"
"Do you have Mistral Mountain-Top?"
"I do."
"Vacuo Golden Sands?"
"Some arrived this morning."
"Atlesian Black?"
Jaune paused. "I don't have that."
"Why not?"
"Well…" Jaune broke off and tried to think of a good excuse. In the end, he decided to be honest. "No offence, but it tastes awful. It's possibly the worst blend of coffee I've ever had the misfortune to taste. I'd not serve it to my worst enemies."
"Young man, I believe this is the beginning of a wonderful relationship."
"Ozpin," the woman hissed, kicking him under the table. Jaune was instantly reminded of Team RWBY. She looked to him, and managed to look just as exasperated as Weiss usually did. "Ignore him, please. I'll have a mocha."
"A treble espresso," the green-haired man asked. "And a little less water than usual, please."
Less water in a triple espresso…? Jaune nodded, but winced internally at the thought of it. That would be so strong, he felt ill just thinking about it. Well, if the guy wanted to peel the lining off his own mouth, who was he to argue?
That was what insurance was for.
"I'll take a latte, lad," the moustached man called.
"And I shall have a fifty-fifty blend of Golden Sands and Vale Red Bean. I'd also appreciate it if you could bring the milk out to me." Ozpin added. "I have rather specific requirements on it."
"You're such an embarrassment," the woman groaned.
Jaune laughed and jotted it down. In truth, he didn't think it was all that odd. He got a lot of people who really liked their coffee (as did his Mom), and everyone did it a little different. If it would make a customer happier to handle the milk themselves, then he would go along with it. Where was the harm?
"I'll be back with your orders shortly," he said.
/-/
Glynda watched the young man go. He hadn't complained about Ozpin's mannerisms, nor even looked upset to hear them. She wasn't sure if she should feel pleased at that, or upset that Ozpin would take it as encouragement. In the end, she went with the easier option, and glared at the man in question instead.
"What?" Ozpin asked innocently. "He's a barista. Would you criticise me for giving specific instructions to a barber?"
No, but there was a marked difference there, and the poor boy looked like he was running the entire place on his own. With everything else he probably had on his plate, she felt guilty throwing Ozpin's OCD's at him as well.
"I've heard nothing but good things from various students about this place," Oobleck mused, looking around. "I have to say, it's actually quite nice."
"Yes, I approve of the room especially," Ozpin said, and Glynda could only agree there. "The view is rather pleasant as well. It's peaceful here."
"It's off the main street, so it's not as busy," she pointed out. "That probably doesn't help him gather much custom, but it does mean it's blessedly quiet. No screaming children bring dragged about by their parents for a change."
Ozpin chuckled. "You know, for a woman who teaches children, you have surprisingly little patience for them."
"I teach children to kill things. I do not deal with toddlers."
Their conversation broke off as the waiter returned once more, balancing a tray between his hands. He set it down on the table next to theirs, then brought across the drinks individually. Glynda accepted hers with a nod of thanks and set it down.
"Is there anything else you'd like?" he asked.
"Well, I wouldn't say no to a cake," Peter said, laughing as though he'd told some particularly hilarious jest. "The problem is there are so many on the menu! How is a man to ever choose?"
Ah, and there was the other embarrassing male she had to spend her time with. Glynda buried her emotions with practised ease, which was probably for the best since she wanted to reach across the table and throttle Peter with his own moustache.
Why had teaching ever seemed like a good career move?
"What would you suggest, lad?" Peter asked. "I can't choose, so make one for me. I'll trust in your expertise."
"Huh, me?" The young man looked a little nervous. "W-Well, I could, but they're all different prices. Wouldn't it be a little unfair if I chose?"
"We'll all have some cakes between us," Ozpin said, coming to his now favourite person's rescue. "Don't worry about the cost. So long as it's not ridiculous, I'm sure it will be fine. Today is a business meeting regardless, so it's technically on expenses."
Glynda gritted her teeth and counted to twenty.
She couldn't kill Ozpin.
That would be bad.
The waiter nodded and left to fulfil the strange order, and Glynda comforted herself in the thought that he'd at least make some good lien off of them. Even so, she rolled her eyes at Ozpin. "We're here to work? Really… that's the first I'd heard."
"It's close enough, Glynda," he chuckled. "Though I didn't mention it before, I thought we might discuss the upcoming field trip to Forever Fall."
"Is there something wrong with it?" Glynda's eyes narrowed. "I've taken all the necessary precautions and arranged everything as best I'm able. If there is a problem, I'd like you to say it."
"No, no – there's nothing wrong. There's no need to get defensive-"
"I'm not defensive."
"I simply meant to discuss the students," Ozpin said, dodging the dangerous topic with easy grace. "It's not the trip itself that concerns me, but several of our teams have shown… less than stellar teamwork thus far. I'm simply concerned they might be problematic for you on the trip."
The mood at the table dropped quickly, and she let out a long sigh as she realised what he meant. While some teams had gotten on famously, Team RWBY being an example, others were struggling to the point of infighting, and that was never a good thing.
"I've never questioned your methods of assigning teams before," Glynda said. "But it really hasn't worked out well this time, Ozpin."
Oobleck tapped his chin. "And come to think of it, we really should have questioned your methods before. Eye-contact is not exactly a full proof means to good relations."
"Well, it's easy for you all to condemn me now, isn't it?" the headmaster groused. It looked like he might argue more, but he sipped his drink and all the tension melted from his face. "But maybe you're right. We'll have to think more on it next year."
Glynda stared at him like he'd grown another head. No argument? That was odd, especially from Ozpin. She sipped her own mocha, and breathed a sigh of relief at the rich, chocolaty taste. So bad for her, so unhealthy, yet so sinfully sweet… chocolate was for children, but coffee was for refined adults, so this always felt like a concession she could make.
"Team Crimson could stand to work together a little more," Oobleck said. "Why, just the other day, Mr Winchester expressed the most disgusting views in class."
"Racism?" Ozpin guessed. "His father fought in the faunus wars and never did let that go…"
"As understandable as the elder Winchester's grief and pain may be, it's not right of him to pass that onto his son, nor for his son to express such in class. I explained so and instructed him to meet me after class." Oobleck sighed and leaned back, nursing his thick, black, tar. "It should have ended there, but unfortunately, Miss Valkyrie seemed to disagree with him and caused an argument. Mr Lark quickly sided with Mr Winchester, while Miss Valkyrie's partner and friend sided with her."
"And before you know it, the team is split in two," Glynda finished. "It's always difficult when emotions and ideologies clash. From what I've seen, Nora Valkyrie and Lie Ren are close friends. Having the two of them on the same team was bound to cause tension, if only because they will side together against the other two."
"It's as you say. Mr Winchester feels his leadership is threatened, and I don't think Miss Valkyrie truly understands how often she tries to determine what the team should do. When Mr Ren agrees with her, it instantly looks like a challenge against the leader and breeds more tension."
"They're not the only team that is struggling," Peter said. "I had Miss Nikos sit next to her partner Mr Thrush in class, and I've never seen two people look more out of place. I'm not sure who to feel sorry for. The poor lad looks like he doesn't know what to say, and she sure isn't talking to him."
Yes, and that entire team was another headache in the making for her. Partners were supposed to be close, and even in Team CRSN, the partnerships were that – with Mr Lark siding with Winchester in most arguments. Pyrrha Nikos and Russel Thrush hadn't seemed like an entirely bad partnership at first, but something had clearly happened.
Now, the two couldn't so much as speak to one another, and often sat on opposite ends of the classroom. They weren't antagonistic, thankfully. They just avoided one another… all the time.
"Not for the first time, I wish teams didn't exist at all," Ozpin sighed. "I'd abolish them, but it's an international custom, so it's not that easy."
The three of them grumbled their agreement. The silence would have continued from there, but for their host coming back with a tray in his hands. She took the distraction for what it was and happily turned to face him.
"Here you go," the young man said, laying out a large plate in the middle of the table. "I hope you enjoy."
Glynda's mind went blank.
She was not an overly feminine woman and never had been. She conducted herself as both a professional and a woman, but she didn't find things cute or pretty. To her, everything needed a function, a purpose. But when he laid the plate down and she was presented with the sight of a small collection of deserts – each one miniscule, but also widely different – she couldn't help but bite her lip and stare.
They're adorable…
"I didn't quite expect this much," Ozpin mused, lifting one of the cakes between his finger and thumb. It was far smaller than the slices she'd seen in the display cabinet, more a single bite in itself, but there were many more of them, and of a wide range of different cakes. Ozpin popped his in his mouth, and judging from his expression, was quite satisfied with the result.
"I wasn't sure which cakes to give," the waiter admitted. "I didn't want to charge you too much, and I didn't think you'd want more than a single slice each, but we have at least thirty different kinds of cakes. In the end, I decided to take smaller cuts of all of them and make mini-cakes."
"It's like a platter," Peter cheered, reaching out to take one and sample it. "Incredible. I love it!"
"They are rather well presented," Oobleck agreed, helping himself. "It also eliminates the need to choose, and lets us sample various different flavours." He nodded to the waiter. "That's quite the clever idea, young man. Perhaps you should add something like this to your menu."
"Do you think?"
Yes. Absolutely. It wasn't just the convenience of it, but the look. Glynda picked up one and stared at it, and it was hard to even think of eating it. He'd not just cut a slice, but actually used some tools to shape it like a tiny little cake. Somewhere deep in her mind, hidden behind locked doors and chains, a little girl squealed at the sight of such an adorably cute thing. She wanted to take it home and keep it as an ornament. It really was just thatcute.
"I think Miss Goodwitch approves," Ozpin teased, and it wasn't until she noticed their gazes on her – even the waiter's – that she realised how much she was staring at the miniature treat. Her cheeks darkened, and Ozpin chuckled. "It looks like you have a winner, Mr Arc. I'm sure many of your other customers would love such an option."
"Several of them are already looking," Oobleck pointed out. He was right, too, for they were receiving quite a few not-so-subtle looks; the kind you might receive at a restaurant if you ordered something unusual or appealing and everyone else wanted to know what it was.
The young man laughed and scratched the back of his head. "I guess I should. Well, it's not a bad idea for sure. I'll have to run it past my consultant."
"You have a business consultant?"
"W-Well, I have a customer who knows a lot about business. She's not really doing work for me, but she always has advice, and I listen to what she says." He smiled to himself. "She's pretty demanding, but she means well. Or I think she does… it's hard to tell sometimes."
"Excuse me," a feminine voice called. It was one of the two girls by the window, two third-years Glynda recognised by name and team. They smiled flirtatiously at the young waiter, who quickly went red-faced and rushed over to them. "Can we have whatever it was they just got? That looked amazing!"
"Huh? Uh, yeah, sure. I'll have to make some more, though. It might be five minutes."
"We can wait," the other said. "Can we have another round as well?"
"Sure."
"Thank you, Jaune~" the first cooed, stroking his arm. "You're really so sweet."
"A-Ah, I should go make your drinks!"
"He's certainly popular," Ozpin said, amusement thick in his tone as he popped another treat into his mouth. "I'm pleased to see him doing so well. This is a nice place, and he deserves the success it could bring."
"I hope he doesn't take them too seriously," Glynda sighed. "They're only flirting, and I'd hate to see him think otherwise."
"I'm sure it will be fine, Glynda."
"You knew his name," Oobleck said. Glynda paused in her own conversation, quickly realising what her companion meant. Ozpin had referred to their waiter as Mr Arc, and there hadn't been any introductions. Even if they went by the name of the diner, he would have said `Jaune` before a surname.
"Nothing gets by you, Bart."
"I did feel it a little curious you ushered us here so quickly," Oobleck admitted. "While I was certainly not averse to finding out more about this place, your excuse of having heard of it from the students fell a little flat. You don't exactly spend much time around the student body."
Ozpin smiled. "You've caught me out."
"Who is he?" Glynda asked, curious despite herself. "It's not like you to take interest in a random citizen of Vale, even if he cancater to your demanding coffee addiction."
"It's not really an addiction, Glynda…"
"Is he a potential student?" she asked, ignoring his protest entirely. "Is it someone you want to add to the student body in some way, or maybe someone of political importance?"
"Neither of those things, I'm afraid. He's just someone I wanted to keep an eye on. Call it a professional interest if you will, but my motives are more compassionate in nature. I just wanted to make sure Mr Arc was doing alright."
"Why?" Glynda asked.
"Why not ask him?" Ozpin said. "You've figured out who I am, right, Jaune Arc?"
"Yeah, I have…"
She jumped when the voice sounded behind her, and quickly scooted her chair around. How he'd snuck up on her, she had no idea, but it might have had something to do with the cakes she was snacking on, or maybe the fact that he presented no presence around him. Most huntsmen and huntresses got used to sensing danger nearby, and he provided none.
He was just a normal civilian.
"You're Ozpin, the headmaster of Beacon." He looked to them. "And you must all be teachers there."
"Indeed, they are."
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr Arc," she said, holding out a hand. He took it, and she took a second to marvel at how un-huntsman-like his hands were. She filed it away, however, not wanting to draw attention to or embarrass him. "I wasn't aware you knew of Beacon or its professors. I'm sorry if it was rude to speak of you behind your back, but how do you know Ozpin?"
"Jaune Arc," he introduced, "and yeah, I know Ozpin." He sighed and shook his head. "I applied to attend Beacon."
"You…?"
"And I rejected his application," Ozpin said conversationally.
All noise died then and there.
Glynda winced, suddenly aware of how she was the closest to the teenager, and how she'd just mindlessly shook hands and introduced herself, unaware of his circumstances or what had happened. And, of course, Ozpin had flown in with his usual lack of tact, and dropped a bombshell on them all.
Well… this turned awkward fast.
"He wanted to attend this year, but I felt his training was not up to the standards we demand," Ozpin continued, completely oblivious to the little signs she was sending him to shut up. Even Peter looked uncomfortable; suddenly far more interested in the window than he had any right to be. "We had a surplus of excellent students this year, and Mr Arc didn't quite meet the bar. In the end, I decided it would be best if he did not attend."
"I-I see," she choked out. "Well, this is hardly the place for such discussions, so-"
"I didn't hear back from him, of course. Not many people respond to letters of rejection, I suppose." Ozpin sighed and finished his coffee. It clinked back down onto the saucer, the noise loud enough to echo through the diner. To her horror, she realised that even the other patrons had gone silent, all sensing the tension in the air and deciding to listen in.
Could Ozpin not sense the mood, or was he just being that much of an idiot?
"I wondered how you were doing, Mr Arc. I half-expected you would leave Vale altogether."
Zero tact… what else had she expected?
"No," Jaune said weakly. "I'm still here… I… I didn't want to go home and admit that I messed up. It felt like doing that would be admitting defeat, or failing somehow. I didn't want my family to look at me and think I was a failure."
"You're not a failure," Glynda interrupted. "Beacon sets unusually high standards for its applicants, and we turn away almost-"
"At becoming a huntsman, he is a failure," Ozpin said, cutting through her argument, and then moving his foot away when she drove her heel down into it. If only she'd thought to bring her weapon, she could have sealed his mouth shut. "I see you didn't try for any other schools. There are more ways to become a huntsman than to attend Beacon, you know. Some take apprenticeships, while others simply wander off into the wild and teach themselves. It's dangerous, of course, but the option is there."
Jaune Arc shrugged weakly, unable – or perhaps unwilling – to explain why he'd chosen to hang up his sword and become nothing more than a civilian.
"You're doing quite well for yourself here, however. I dare say you've been quite successful in setting this place up. Your menu is certainly diverse enough, and your service has been exemplary. Do you intend to make a career of this?"
"I guess so. It would be a bit weird if I opened this place and didn't."
"True…" Ozpin smiled coyly and leaned his hands on the table. "Allow me to be frank, Mr Arc. Do you wish for me to leave?"
"Ozpin!" Glynda hissed.
"No, it's fine…" Jaune shrugged and let out a long sigh. "I don't mind you being here."
"Despite me being directly responsible for trampling on your dreams?"
Jaune shuffled awkwardly, and it looked like he appreciated being the centre of attention even less than she did. For that alone she'd make sure to dump a week's worth of paperwork on her boss' desk. He deserved it for being so rude. In the end, the waiter shrugged.
"You're not upset?" Ozpin asked. "You knew who I was from the start, yet you treated me like any other customer. Why is that?"
"Because you're a customer… my consultant would be pretty angry if she heard I'd thrown you of all people out."
"That's not the real reason and you know it."
"What do you want me to say?" Jaune demanded – and there was a hint of emotion to his voice at last. Glynda recognised it easily in the way his hands clenched into fists. Ozpin, apparently, did not.
"The truth, I suppose. Were you not angry that I turned you down?"
"Angry? Angry!?" His blue eyes snapped open. "Of course I was angry! Becoming a huntsman was my dream, it was what I'd always wanted, and you just threw that away without even giving me a chance to prove myself! I was angry, alright. I was distraught, depressed – I didn't know what to do!" His hands tightened on his tray, and she saw it bend. "I'd never felt so… so crushed in my whole life. I was left with nothing, and after I'd come all the way to Vale to try and make this work. You took everything away from me…"
Glynda's face fell.
"And yet you've treated me like any other customer. Why is that?"
"Because… because what difference would it make if I didn't?"
What…?
"Getting angry at you won't change anything, and it's been almost two weeks since then. If you'd come to me on the first night, I'd have screamed and shouted at you, but I can't bring myself to do that anymore." Jaune sighed and placed his tray down on a nearby table. He looked exhausted. "I woke up at five in the morning so I could meet with my suppliers and order some more fresh milk, and then I had to clean all the tables and get ready for the day. I prepped all the machines, visited the local bakeries, and then had to cut cakes and lay them out in display cabinets. It's three in the afternoon now, and I've got a big order coming in an hour, not to mention the rush once the local businesses close for the day. I just don't have the time to get angry."
Glynda's face tilted to the side. She wasn't sure what she was hearing, and also couldn't figure out whether that was mature or not of him. Sure, he'd decided to put aside his animosity, but because he couldn't fit it in his day…?
Was that a good thing?
"Besides, it's not like it would change anything. You probably had a reason to not accept me, and it probably wasn't because you enjoy it. I was really upset, but I guess I just busied myself and forgot about it. I want to be angry even now, but I just can't find it." Jaune laughed awkwardly and picked up his tray once more. "Maybe you made the right choice, anyway. Maybe I wouldn't have been cut out for the life of a huntsman. I guess I'll never know." His eyes trailed to the ceiling and then back down to them again. He took a deep breath and let it go. "But no, you don't have to leave. You're welcome here, even after what happened. You were just doing your job, and I'll do mine. There doesn't have to be any hard feelings."
Ozpin smiled warmly. "I'm glad to hear it. For what it's worth, I derived no satisfaction from the decision."
"I understand. This isn't what I expected I'd be doing either, but I can't say I hate it."
"One should never do something they dislike," Oobleck said wisely. "You've certainly managed to craft a loyal customer base. I'd be happy to come back myself."
"I, as well," Glynda added. "If we're welcome, that is. I would understand if you didn't want-"
"No, it's fine." He smiled at her, and she could sense nothing but honesty there. "Like I said, I was worse about this before, but I'm over it. I'd be happy to see you all again. Anyway, I should get back to work and leave you to your food. If you need me, just shout."
"We will, Mr Arc," Ozpin said. He watched the waiter leave, and turned back to the rest of them with a small smile. It faded when he noticed them staring at him. "What?"
"Don't you what us, Ozpin," Glynda hissed. "Can we not even take you out for coffee without your causing a scene?"
"I merely wanted to address the issue. I did worry for the young man, and I didn't want to impose on him if he my presence caused him any distress."
"And you could not have addressed him in private?" Oobleck asked with narrowed eyes. "As opposed to, say, throwing it out in the middle of our lunch break? That was an awkward situation, Ozpin, and not one we needed to be involved in!"
Glynda nodded with a fierce glare.
"For shame," Peter agreed around a mouth filled with cake. "For- hm, this is delicious. I- Oh right, yes, for shame."
/-/
Jaune stretched his muscles and fought back a yawn as the clock struck ten. Another day over, and another till filled with lien. That wasn't to say he'd turned a real profit yet, but he was on the right track. It was about half way through the month, and if things carried on like they were, he'd turn a small one – enough to cover his bills and keep going, anyway.
He didn't bother to flip the sign over on the door, and instead moved around the diner, stacking chairs and wiping tables clean. He left one table free, however, with two seats next to it.
If his memory served him correct…
The bell rang.
"See? I told you he'd still be open."
"Technically, I'm closed," Jaune said without any heat. He smiled at the little girl who skipped up to him and tilted her head to the side. "There's plenty of ice-cream in the freezer unit. Pick which flavours you want and I'll mix it up for you."
Neo clapped her hands together and rushed away, and not for the first time, he had to remind himself that she was actually older than he was.
"Thanks, kid," Roman said, sitting down on the table and reaching for a cigar. He paused when Jaune stared pointedly at him, and then sheathed it with a sigh. "There's no one else here. It's not like anyone would know."
"No, but I'd have to get rid of the smell. You know the rules, Roman." Jaune pushed an affogato over to the man, and passed him a spoon along with it. This was actually the third time Roman had visited, and he'd become something of a late night regular. From what Jaune understood, the two worked in the removals industry, but they had the night shift or something. They didn't talk about work much (not that Neo talked at all), and he understood why.
Who wanted to talk about work when you were relaxing?
Either way, their shift ended technically after his diner did, but they'd caught him closing for the day and Neo had looked so upset, he hadn't the heart to ask them to leave.
Of course, he'd been in for a bit of a rude awakening when he'd asked Roman what his daughter wanted. She'd not taken well to that, and only a liberal serving of ice-cream had been enough to cool her anger. Since then, she'd made it a conscious effort to remind him that she may have looked young, but that she definitely wasn't.
"Busy day?" Jaune called, moving over to the counter and scooping out ice-cream as Neo pointed.
"Don't even get me started, kid." Roman said. Naturally, he didn't need any more encouragement and did, in fact, get started. "Had to meet with something of a new customer today, and I'll be damned if she doesn't think she owns us. An arrogant piece of work if I've ever seen it."
For him to call someone arrogant, she had to be really bad.
"Can't you just refuse to work for her?"
"It's… not quite as simple as that. She has big money, not to mention influence. The kind of person you don't say no to, you know?"
"Sounds scary…"
"Oh, she is." Roman sipped at his drink and sighed. "To tell you the truth, I'd rather not deal with her at all, but like I said, I can't exactly say no. We need the work anyway, and if we're not involved, she'll just find someone else. Sure, they won't be as good as I am, but I kind of don't want to be on the opposite side from her."
"Now it just sounds complicated." Jaune placed the bowl on the counter and stuck some wafers into it. For added measure, he also took some pieces of chocolate and poked them out of the top, before he handed it to Neo.
She took it happily, and dragged him down by the apron.
When he straightened back up, it was with a crimson face, and him wiping one hand across his cheek. His legs honestly felt a little weak.
Roman, the bastard, laughed his ass off. "Oh, she's not letting you go for the daughter comment, is she?" He grinned and nudged the girl, who ignored him entirely and dug into her treat. "I've never seen her so affectionate, but then again I've never seen her so annoyed, either. You bring out the best and worst in her. Congrats."
He sat down opposite them, still rubbing his cheek and still not trying to look at the pretty girl. She was very small, but it had been more exhausted idiocy that had led to him calling her a child. There was no way he could misinterpret those curves, nor the way she swayed her hips when she moved.
It was far too late when he noticed her eyes locked onto his. She'd seen him looking – and seemed more than pleased. She casually ran her tongue over the spoon in punishment, making sure her mismatched eyes watched him as she did.
Jaune swallowed and tried to ignore the uncomfortable tightening in his pants. If Neo's smug look was any indication, she damn well knew.
"I-Is she ever going to stop getting me back for that? I said sorry."
"A wise man once told me that a man forgets but never forgives, while a woman forgives but never forgets." Roman paused to let the message sink in, and then smirked. "Neo, on the other hand, neither forgives nor forgets. Get used to it."
She winked at him when he turned to look at her, and Jaune groaned to himself. He wasn't sure if it was heaven or hell, but it still left him red in the face and feeling like an idiot.
"How is business going?" Roman asked. "Anything good happen today?"
Jaune regaled the two with his tale of the day, mostly of the teachers from Beacon and their almost-fight. When Roman first came, he and Neo had been almost wary around him, like they expected him to say or do something. When he hadn't, and when it was clear he wasn't going to, they'd quickly relaxed, and they'd become a regular fixture for the last three nights.
Always when he was about to close, and always when he had no one else in the diner.
"Sounds interesting," Roman laughed. "You're certainly drawing your fair share of attention, kid. You sure you want to be the kind of place that caters to huntsmen, though?"
"What do you mean? I'm open to anyone."
"You might be, but it's not the same. You already said you've noticed less custom from normal people, well that isn't an accident. Huntsmen and civilians don't mix."
"I'm a civilian."
"Normal civilians," Roman drawled, rolling his eyes. "You don't count."
"That's nonsense. I've seen loads of huntsmen walking down the streets and no one runs away screaming when they do. Vale is filled with people, both huntsmen and not."
"Yeah, but they don't mix," he repeated. "They can exist in the same place, but the culture is different, and they don't like to mingle. Look, I'm not trying to trick or even confuse you, Jaune. I'm just answering your unspoken question." He shrugged and finished his drink. "Don't take my word on it, though. Ask around, or better yet, keep your eyes open and see for yourself."
Impatience warred within him for a second, but he forced it down. If he just asked Roman, then he wouldn't get an explanation, and even if he did, he'd still have to see it himself to believe it. "Alright, I'll keep my eyes open."
"And I'll be there to say `I told you so` when you figure it out," Roman laughed, slapping some lien down on the table.
Jaune sighed. "You always tip too high."
"You're open after hours. Consider it a premium rate. Besides, money comes easy to me – it's like a natural gift I have."
"Yeah well, you shouldn't say that too loud. Someone might try to rob you."
"Somehow, I think I'll be okay on that front…" Roman laughed to himself and stood up, picking up his cane once more. He didn't have a limp, so Jaune had no idea why he had such a thing – but Roman was pretty eccentric, so maybe it was a part of the outfit. "See you tomorrow night, kiddo. Thanks for the treat; it's hard to find places open late like this, and even harder to find ones with service like this."
"I literally don't even do anything," he said.
"That's the point. Let's just say I'm used to a very specific reaction from most people. It's nice to find someone who acts normal around us. It's a nice change." Roman smirked when it was clear he didn't understand. "You'll get it in time, kid. Anyway, you ready to go, Neo?"
It was only when Roman said the name that Jaune realised his mistake. He'd turned his back on the girl and left himself open.
He yelped and jumped forward when her hand slapped against his backside. His cheeks, which had only just started to go back to normal, were bright red again, and the girl laughed silently as she sashayed past him.
She made sure to turn and blow him a kiss before she left.
And Roman made sure to laugh himself hoarse at the same time.
Jaune rubbed his behind as they left, trying to regain his racing heart. He'd never received that kind of attention from girls before, and certainly none as pretty as Neo. Heck, even his customers had started to make it a sport to see who could make him blush the most. He groaned in embarrassment and picked up his mop once more.
"Why do I keep getting the weirdest customers?"
If only you knew, Jaune. If only you knew. A double whammy in this chapter, even if I'd originally thought to give each of them their own. It would have been possible to do that with Roman and Neo for sure, but I felt it would have really dragged on this introduction arc a little too much to do that.
And yeah, Jaune's constant state of busy hasn't left him much time to watch news reports or read newspapers, hence him not knowing a thing about Torchwick. Anyway, next chapter in two weeks, as Captain Dragon runs in the interim. I'm enjoying both of those stories at the moment, which is nice. They're both relatively stress-free, even if the tone is massively different.
Oh, and some hints given about how team assignments were different as a result of Jaune's lack of involvement. No Jaune means no Deathstalker, after all, and a markedly different initiation.
Next Chapter: 19th September
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur