if she tipped in ire, you'd be a millionaire

The pâtisserie was one that Alisaie had seen before in passing, a quaint and dainty little thing tucked away into a corner at the end of the street. 

Antique stores, boutiques, and toy shops lined the road going down, with a plant nursery here and there still open for the evening. As she made her way down the path, Alisaie looked over the small shop once more.

She had never really given it much thought before, already having all the sweets and baked goods she could dream of tucked away in the cabinets back home, but her grandfather had mentioned that the pastries crafted in the shop were simply to die for. It piqued her curiosity, so when Alphinaud made mention of visiting the place to surprise their grandfather, Alisaie took it upon herself to complete the errand.

“Sister, are you sure?” Alphinaud asked, his brows knitted together. “It’s, well, it may be difficult for you to go….”

“Hmph! Nonsense, brother,” she said, grabbing hold of the list from his fingers. “Believe it or not, even I’m capable of handling such a task.”

A warm, orange glow emitted from the windows, and Alisaie smiled, opening the door, the bell chiming overhead.

“Good even—ah.”

“Oh,” brown paper crinkled, bread tucked away carefully inside. “It’s you.”

Alisaie tried not to scowl at the man standing at the counter, wanting to be mindful of the other patrons chattering away quietly to themselves, sweets and drinks laid before them. She settled with a grimace and inhaled the aroma of the bakery; her ire eased some at the faint whiff of ginger. “Hello… Zenos,” she said carefully, hating the taste of the name on her tongue, “I’m here to place an order.”

It would be a massive blow to her pride if she got banned within five minutes of stepping inside, so with great effort, she bit down any crude remarks and made her way over to the counter. She could feel the weight of Zenos’ stare the entire time, her brow twitching as she kept her head up, refusing to seem weak before the bastard.

So he works at bakeries, she thought as she set the list down in front of Zenos, staring him dead in the face. Big deal.   

“I need these.”

Zenos stared back.

Alisaie huffed, her bangs fluttering. “Please.” 

He lifted a hand and motioned at the store. “Does this appear to be a library, little girl? I’ve no use for reading your chores.”

“You—” she felt her cheeks burn hot, the gentle titter of the customers from behind grating on her ears. She sucked in her breath sharply, snatching the list back, wishing she could have burned a hole through the man’s skull with her glare. “My sincerest apologies.”

Zenos tapped his chin. “Rather obedient today.”

Fuck you, she thought as she straightened out the list, Alphinaud’s neat handwriting reminding her of her mission. “I need—”

“Halt.”

She raised a brow when Zenos pulled out a chair and sat down, arms crossed neatly atop the display. “Your face is hideous from above. I could hardly concentrate.”

Alisaie wondered what mattered more to her at that moment—her grandfather’s smiling face at his grandchildren’s thoughtfulness or smashing the bastard’s face through the display counter.

“As I was saying,” she all but spat out, the beginnings of a headache making themselves known, “I need one lemon tart, three palmiers, half a dozen madeleines, eight cream puffs, and a dozen ginger cookies.” There was no mention of ginger cookies on Alphinaud’s list, but she reasoned that she deserved the reward. 

Besides, what big brother didn’t enjoy spoiling their dear, sweet little sister from time to time?

Patting herself for a job completed, Alisaie pocketed the list and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

She picked at a loose thread on her sleeve, rocking back on her heels. “...well?”

“Surely you don’t expect me to remember such demands,” Zenos drawled out, now holding a small device in hand. Alisaie could hear the sounds of his digital pet playing with something, and she wasn’t sure what pissed her off more. The fact that he was insistent on being a bigger pain than usual—

—or the fact that she had the exact pet back at home.

My pet’s probably cuter, anyhow. She fished out the list, counting to three, “Well then thank the gods that this list here—”

Zenos held up a hand. “And, for that matter, little girl, I cannot in good faith let you selfishly buy out the store.” 

“What?!” Her voice was a pitch short of a shrill, anger sparking hot in her gut. “It’s not the whole bloody store you whor—”

The quiet murmuring from the other patrons burned her ears as they watched the two, no doubt curious how the scene would unfold. Alisaie bit her lip, shoving down the embarrassment she felt, reigning back in her tempter. “It is not the whole store.” She placed her hands on the counter and leaned forward, lips pressed into a tight smile. “But I suppose someone as simple-minded as you wouldn’t know how to count, now, would you?”

She tried not to smile when Zenos’ eyebrow twitched ever so slightly, but the satisfaction of hearing the digital pet’s displeasure at Zenos’ neglect was too much, a wide grin spreading across her face. “I’d be more than pleased to repeat myself,” her ponytail swayed as she turned her chin up in triumph. “It’s the least I could do, being a kind person and a—FUCK!”

“Oops,” Zenos said as he got up, releasing her ponytail, which he had very deliberately yanked on. “Trash isn’t allowed on the counter. Store policy.”

Alisaie rubbed the back of her head gently, cursing Zenos with words she knew would have her parents hiding their faces in shame. 

“And yet they allow a dog such as yourself to man the station,” she muttered. 

“Says the girl who wears a leash out in public,” she jumped when Zenos’ fingers brushed across the ribbon in her hair, “But,” he smiled in the way that she loathed, “I supposed not all dogs can be given such freedom lest they find themselves in trouble. Especially small, foolish beasts.”

Alisaie bristled at the comment. “I’ll have you know I’m as grown as they come!” She puffed her chest out, standing as tall as her height would allow, a few inches shy of headbutting Zenos’ stomach. “And I can handle you any day.”  

Zenos crossed his arms, far too smug for her liking. “So was that your true intention for appearing in this store as opposed to all the others?”

Her brow furrowed. “What in gods name are you rambling about now?” 

“Though you hardly appeal to me,” Zenos snorted, “Really, walking around with such a face should be a crime. But I suppose your tenacity has some merit to it.”

Anger no longer boiled in her veins, just mere confusion. “What?”

“But I must say, there are rotting corpses with far better grace and tact than the pitiful attempt you pulled today,” Zenos clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I hope the gods grace me with good fortune for being subjected to such an awful display today.”

“Gods, you’re so full of it!”

“Says the one who ordered eight cream puffs.”

“Why do you care what I stuff myself with?!” Alisaie shouted angrily, no longer caring about the rest of the shop. “I could ask for thirty cream pies, and it’d still be none of your godsdamn business!”

Zenos smiled. “Even if I’m the one who whips the cream?”

Alisaie wanted to spit. She settled with, “Fuck you, and your cream.” With a huff, she turned sharply on her heel, straightening her coat. Surely Alphinaud would understand the switch in plans, surely the pastries here weren’t all that great—

Someone coughed, and Alisaie blinked, now noticing that all the patrons were entertaining themselves with their plates, red-faced and huddled in on themselves. Her brows furrowed together, but before she could wonder any longer, and hand nudged her shoulder from behind.

She sighed, turning back around. “What now—” She stared at the boxes Zenos held out. “...what’s all this?”

“Boxes.”

“I know.”

“It didn’t seem like you did—”

“Shut up.” Carefully, she grabbed them from Zenos’ hands, hating the way their skin brushed together. She didn’t care to know how sharp his knuckles felt beneath her fingers, nor the fact that they seemed to radiate a warmth more calming than the gentle glow from the fireplace back at home. “What—”

“Your brother called yesterday,” Zenos raised a brow. “Or were you stupid enough to believe we’d have an order that large on hand?” He shook his head. “Truly, the hallmark of a spoiled child, expecting everyone to bend and bow to your command.”

Alisaie rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she sniffed, somewhat grateful she wouldn’t disappoint her brother and grandfather after all. “...how much?”

“Your brother made prior arrangements.” Zenos shrugged his shoulders. “So it does not matter.”

She narrowed her eyes at Zenos, not trusting his words. But the aroma from the boxes stole her attention away, and as Alisaie lifted them closer to her nose, she smiled at the hints of ginger she found. “Mmm...."

“It’s indecent to drool in such a manner right before our patrons.”

Alisaie scoffed. “Yeah, yeah. Well, thanks.” And good riddance. 

“We added a cream pie on top.”

She paused, looking at him curiously. “Really?” Carefully, Alisaie set the boxes on the counter and peeked inside the top one, immediately taken in by the delicate swirls of cream. It smelled heavenly, and, now feeling ashamed, she swallowed her pride and reached into her pocket.

She refused to look at Zenos as she added the money to the tip jar, wanting nothing more than to hightail it out of there already. With a curt nod, she gathered the boxes again in her arms and marched toward the exit, head held high.

“I never said it was free.”

Alisaie turned back slowly and counted to three. 

“Fuck. You.”

And cursed every fiber in the man’s body.