multiversallogs | (no subject)

Who: Ianto and YOU
What: Coffee. Americano. Espresso. Cafe Latte. Need I go on?
Where: Queequeg's
When: during a slow hour
Notes:
Warnings: Once your character tastes Ianto's coffee, they will be ruined for all other coffee forever.

Ianto let out a breath. The morning rush was finally over, the manager was beaming, and the supply of ground coffee had dwindled as the mess behind the counter had grown. Day after day, the lines out the door had been getting progressively longer as word of Ianto's coffee spread, and Ianto was now fairly certain people were going well out of their way for it. He'd spotted some customers he was sure weren't even residents of Mog Hill. If he ever wanted to take over Baedal, he figured he could successfully pull a Starbucks.

While it was flattering almost to the point of embarrassment, it was also irritating since it dirtied up his kitchen (yes, his kitchen), and dealing with demanding customers wasn't his favorite way to spend a morning. Thankfully, his co-workers were taking out the trash and cleaning the counters, leaving Ianto free to grind more of his special blends in preparation for the next rush.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"This isn't Starbucks," Ianto replies smoothly, with an amused turn of the lips. "If anyone orders a venti, we reserve the right to refuse them service."

Gladly, most people in Baedal have no idea what Starbucks is, but Ianto still maintains they ought to have a sign. "A medium what?"

"Thank Christ," he says, mildly, "their coffee is wretched. A medium Americano. Black."

Ianto smirks the smirk of the vindicated -- he'll tell anyone who'll listen that Starbucks burns their beans -- and nods. "One medium Americano, coming up."

He turns to his work while the girl manning the cash register politely declares how much Ivan owes for the drink. In very little time, Ianto is finished and gently sliding the coffee over the counter. "Here we are."

It should be, hands down, the most perfect Americano Ivan has ever tasted.

Ivan takes a drink and the, uncharacteristically, looks impressed.

"That is the best coffee I have had in a long while," he says, after a pause. Where 'a while' is measured in centuries. "Where did you learn to make that?"

Ianto ducks his head modestly, but the little smirk on his face suggests that he knows very well his coffee is amazing and he's damn proud of it.

"My own special blend. Coffee and I have always had a good relationship. And I take care not to burn the beans, unlike some establishments I could name." See? Anyone who'll listen.

"The rare craftsman," he says, wry. "What's your name?"