Service With a Smile

"Mocha, lots of ice..none of that fruity whip cream shit. Thanks."

"Would that be a carmel mocha or-"

"A fucking mocha mocha. Thanks."

No tip for her. He would pay only what the coffee cost.

Karkat stared into the small jar of tips, sitting on the counter with its low amount of change. He looked up at the girl taking his order, her sparkly green eyes hidden behind pathetic, giant, round glasses.

Whatever.

Not like she was pretty under all that nerd.

After paying her, he had a second thought and casually slipped a dollar into the change jar. He walked to the other side of the counter to await his order. As he left, he heard the customer behind him hitting on the nerd girl.

"Hey girl, how you doing tonight. That lame kid ahead of me weren't treating you too bad was he? Ahh yeah service with a smile, babe...that's the way to do it."

Go figure. This fucking town. Full of nerdy girls and sarcastic hipsters.

Whatever.

Karkat picked up his coffee from the end of the counter, took his receipt and exited the coffee shop. If that kid wanted to start shit with him, he sure as hell wasn't letting it happen. He'd just have to drink is "mocha" flavored mocha on the curb.

So he sat there, sipping at the cool beverage (why the fuck did he order it iced?! It was fucking raining outside! At least he had the cover of the coffee shop's roof.) and staring into the sky, watching the clouds cry into the street, where the reflection of the nearby stores would play rainbows in the puddles.

All in all, today had been an okay day.

He had gotten up, gone to his classes and come home to play some computer games and work on his writing. After having hit a writer's block (usual around this time of evening) he decided he needed some coffee to get him going. And why not walk down to get some?

Because nerdy idiot girls.

And blond sarcastic hipster kids.

That was why.

Fuck this place; time to leave.

Karkat scowled, standing abruptly and spilling his coffee down the front of his hoodie.

"God fucking dam-"

He looked around for something to wipe himself off with. Unfortunately, the only thing he could think of to use would be a napkin from the coffee shop. And the idea of going inside, covered in his own mocha, didn't sound so appealing.

But what choice did he have?

With a sigh, he begrudgingly stomped inside, avoiding the gaze of fellow night owls and college students. As the men's room sign came into view, Karkat was called out to.

"Hey emo kid! Heard you were giving that girl up at the counter some shit?"

A chorus of laughs rang around a small table closest to the bathrooms.

Karkat glowered.

And he had almost made it, too. Go figure this shit would happen. Karkat wasn't allowed to have good days. It went against the laws of nature.

So here it was, karma in all his blond haired, 80's sweatered glory. Staring up at him through dark shades and a sly half crooked smile.

The cancer had dealt with many types of karma.

But never one that made his heart stop and cut off his ability to think of comebacks so sick they would start fires and throw irons into said flames.

No this karma was different.

And it had friends.

One boy in a cool blue hoodie sat to the hipster's left, Karkat's right. He had ravened colored hair and a goofy smile. But his eyes seemed to shine with a sugar-coated menace.

Another boy sat to the blonde's right. He seemed very tall and bore striking resemblance to the hipster himself. Karkat figured they were related some way, if not brothers.

"We have to catch that flick. Have fun with whatever, Dave." The boy in blue spoke up, chuckling.

Both boys on either side of the hipster stood and grabbed their drinks, exiting the coffee shop. On their way out, they laughed together, striking up some irrelevant conversation involving puppet themed movies or some shit.

Karkat looked down at his sweat shirt. The shit was probably already stained; light grey didn't do so well in the washer. He took another step towards the rest room.

"Sit."

The casual way this "Dave" hipster demanded him to sit down made Karkat's skin crawl. This boy had practice. He knew how to scare someone.

Without putting much thought into it (other than that he was scared shitless by this point) Karkat sat down across from the blond.

"No. Next to me. I want you to hear me real well."

The messy haired teen stood, anger rising.

Just who the fuck did this kid think he was, telling him to sit. And why the fuck was he listening to the scumbag in the first place.

"Fuck you, man. You don't even fucking know me! Do you see this fucking sweater?! It's probably ruined because of you and your group of idiots calling after me like some retarded middle class white guy who lost his kid's dog in the middle of Central Park. Good luck with that one, jackass. Ain't no park rangers helping you out this time. This fucking puppy's gone."

After a moment of stunned silence, Dave grinned like a cat.

Karkat flipped him off, turning on his heal and heading, once a-FUCKING-gain, to the bathroom.

"Hey wait! Seriously sit down. You're cool, it's cool, bro."

"Jesus fucking Christ, let me get some goddamn napkins first will you?!"

The hipster grinned, holding up a small pile of napkins he had most likely been given with his order of donuts and black coffee. Interrogations and black coffee? Who the fuck was this kid, anyway? A cop?

What the fuck ever. Napkins were napkins.

That was the only reason he walked back to the table and sat next to the kid.

For the fucking napkins.

That was it.

As soon as his ass made contact with the booth seat, the cancer grabbed the napkins from Dave's grip, wiping at his hoodie.

The hipster kid watched him wipe at the stain.

"Fuck it's not gonna...it won't come out...dammit." Karkat threw the used napkins on the table and sunk further into his seat.

His last unstained hoodie.

Dammit, he didn't have the money for this shit.

"Damn you're just having a bad day, aren't you?" The hipster's Southern accent surprised Karkat enough that his eyes flickered to the boy's shades. He hadn't noticed it before. Regardless, he was irritated and so not interested in what he had to say. Even if Hipster Dude looked slightly more sympathetic than before. He hoped he would lose his ability to talk. Ha. Fat chance.

"I mean...I get that, man. But you don't have to be up and takin' it all out on the pretty girl behind the counter, do ya? What the hell did she ever do to you?"

Oh this shit, again. He thought the dumbass was done trying to scold him on his lack of manners.

"Fuck this." Karkat stood, brushing off his skinny jeans. "I'm leaving, I don't have to take this shit. Thanks for the napkins, asshole."

"I'll buy you a new sweat shirt."

The words shocked the cancer. He turned to the other boy, a question forming on his lips.

With visible strain, he stomped down his question and scowled at the boy, throwing a napkin in his face before picking up the kid's coffee and dumping it down the hipster's sweater.

"NO! It's fucking fine now see?! Just look! WE'RE EVEN!"

The cancer stomped out of the shop, ignoring the stares and yells from the other customers as he headed into the rain soaked night.