"coming right up, he says, turning to walk to the counter. all at once, like a three-year old suddenly gaining awareness of its place in the cycle of life and death, greyson's mind begins to wander.

it thinks of the terrible line he just said, of the fact he needed to walk straight now of all times, and how he hoped to the creator he wouldn't spill coffee on himself today. so wrapped up in the machinations of an anxious tide, he nearly misses the lady calling him to the counter.

"oh, ah, sorry." his face burns and the desire to pat his hair... "lavender latte, please. And a iced mocha one for myself." satisfied, but properly embarrassed, greyson goes through another round of turmoil as he stands off to the side, waiting for their drinks.

did he look at his phone? her? a magazine? arceus, he was a grown man. push past it.

cups in tow, he places them on the table, sitting down across from her. with only a thin sliver of woof distancing them, greydon became all to focused on her.

"lavender, huh? how's that taste?"

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he hands over the drink, lingering on their brief touch for a moment longer than one might've, before lifting his gaze up. only this time he was transfixed on the soft amber hues across from him, and they quickly dart away to a the side as he takes a sip of his drink.

his drink was dime-a-dozen, and he accepted that. mocha was something near all coffee places did, even if some simply did it better. "so does mine," he agrees, the hint of cold brew sending small jolts of caffeine into his book-tired eyes. greyson freezes in mid sip at her question, turning a deer-in-headlights gaze onto her.

"uh.. yeah, it sounds interesting, why not? let me go get another straw..."

he goes to push himself to his feet.

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her voice is carried off in the small breeze of his own departure, and when he returns, he's carrying only one straw.

tentatively, he places his straw next to hers, letting it sink. her words perk his attention upwards, and he gives his own drink a nervous glance. would she even like it? it was mocha, one of the most superior flavors in coffee that existed, but...

without thinking he slides his own over.

then he takes a sip of the lavender. surprisingly it didn't taste like bath soap. his face goes through a myriad of expressions before finally landing on one: surprise.

"it's... really good."

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greyson blinks, coming to the realization that he'd pushed the drink over to her. he didn't mind sharing a straw, but he was certainly hyper aware that many certainly would. seeing as how she didn't seem upset...

"uh, no, please, uh, go ahead." he swallows the leftover lavender, feeling the trickling sweetness leave a lasting mark on his taste buds. with a genuine smile on her face, more-so at her pleased reaction to his drink, he slides her drink back over to her.

"i'm glad you like it, it's a bit more chocolatey than usual, but i'm kind of pushing through it." absent-mindedly greyson moves the books he's still yet to purchase off to the side and stacks them against the wall. literary art like this absolutely needed to free from careless coffee stains.

then, as he's lining them up, he realizes something profound.

"...i don't think i ever introduced myself, did i?"

he gives a quick nervous chuckle, extending a hand.

"i'm greyson connors."

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"do i?" he laughs, genuinely surprised at the comment, "i've never met another greyson in my life, so i'll take that as a compliment."

"penny," he echoes, mulling it around in his head, and liking the way it slipped off his lips. "is that what you prefer? or do you like when people call you penelope?" his fingers twirl the straw of his drink absentmindedly, swirling the condensed mocha and sugar even more.

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"oh? where did you meet these five? if there's at least five in hoenn, i think we can form a book club." he did hear about that large event with people named 'josh', and if he could assemble something familiar...

her intense stare didn't make him uncomfortable, but he found himself occasionally shifting his own. eventually, they'd also fall back onto hers, attracted by an unknown force.

"penny it is," he smiles, "so, penny, what do you do for work?"

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