The Bird Who Cried Coffee
Tim stumbled across the road with jelly legs and staggering vision. He had made the mistake of picking up alcohol instead of coffee to 'give himself a buzz' and now, he was drunk out of his mind in the middle of the night, creeping in between corners in case one of his brothers on patrol (or Batman himself) found him in the city.
"Co—coffee?" He slurred, seeing a bright glowing light next to an alley. He stepped towards the place: a humble coffee shop, only the size of five and a half telephone booths. How come he'd never seen it before?
"Hello!" He hollered at the counter, hopping up a barstool. His mind was chanting: drunk, bad. Coffee good. Need coffee.
"Welcome to the Coffee Stall! We appear whenever and wherever you need us—oh." A girl—or at least Tim thought it was a girl—emerged from the back. She gaped at him.
"Where's your menu?" Tim pouted. "Do you have an iced latte with four shots of espresso and chocolate sprinkles?"
"Um, yeah I don't think that's what you need right now," the girl said, wiping her hand with a towel. She went away from the counter again and came back with a glass of water.
"That's not coffee." Tim was close to tears.
"No coffee for you right now," she reprimanded, with her ponytail swaying as she shook her head. "Drink that. You need to sober up tonight . . . and you can use some company."
"Are you trying to flirt with me, lady?"
She sighed. "Please just drink that."
Tim did as told, downing the water to wash away the ugly taste in his mouth. He asked for another glass, which she happily poured him.
"Look, how do I explain this?" The girl muttered. "We're a Coffee Stall that . . . we do sell coffee, but whenever there's a person in need, we also try to help them out. This place is run with magic, so we can't choose where we end up."
"And I'm only telling you this because you're so drunk. You probably won't remember this in the morning."
"I've got a great memory, thank you," Tim huffed, squinting at her nametag. "Marinara Sauce."
"It's Marinette," the coffee water server deadpanned.
"Marinette." He nodded, clasping the glass between his hands. "I don't need company, by the way, I already have a multi-billion dollar one of my own."
"Right. And your name?"
"Tim Duck."
"Tim Duck?"
"It's bad to give out your name to people you don't know." He examined his fingernails smugly. "So it's Tim Duck. Duck-Wine. Also known as the Gotham vigilante Red Robin."
Marinette winced. "Something tells me I'm not supposed to know that."
"It's a pretty well-kept secret."
She laughed, moving to the side to take out a box of cake from the refrigerator. Tim's mouth watered at the perfect-looking dessert that she was slicing. Thankfully, the slice she took was for him.
"You're in luck. I'm good at keeping secrets." She smiled enigmatically. "So what are you doing walking around in the City of Crime late at night while drunk?"
Tim groaned, stabbing his fork into the piece of cake. "I was tired! So much work to do and no breaks. I found this nice bottle and started drinking. Then I ended up here." He hiccuped. "Before you say anything, I can take care of myself. I once took down Scarecrow and his goons while running on 0.532 hours of sleep!"
"I'm sure you did."
"I did!" He said proudly. "I also found out Batman's identity when I was a kid and forced him to make me Robin!"
"Did you now?"
"Yup!" He said with a mouthful of cake. He asked for his third glass of water before he continued snacking on the chiffon goodness. "Where are you actually from, Marinette?"
"Paris," she replied.
"That is so far from here? How'd you get here?"
"I told you already. Magic. We've been hopping from place to place." She pointed to the corkboard hung up on top of the flavoring pumps. Pictures forming a collage were pinned on the board. "We've been to Hawaii, Moscow, Taiwan, Italy and more. There's around one to five customers per location."
" 'We'?"
"Ah, this is my shift. We have other workers."
Tim hummed. "You're not the owner?"
"Technically I am, since I do the extra work and lead the team but I'd like to think that the owner is all this Miraculous magic and I'm just the manager."
Tim sipped his water again. Yes, none of what she said sounded strange at all.
---
"I swear, it was right here!"
"What was here?" Dick asked.
"The Coffee Stall!" Tim cried out. He took his phone out from his suit jacket and double-checked the location. The street looked exactly the same as he remembered last night, except for the absence of the shop.
He remembered what Marinette said. The shop changed locations depending on whoever needed it.
"What was supposed to be here, Tim?" Dick peeked at his phone.
"A magical coffee shop that appears for those in need and travels all around the world. They have really good cakes and it's run by this cute girl!" By his drunken stupidity, he failed to get her number or last name, so he only had her first name and a fuzzy memory of her beauty.
"Remind me to never let you near alcohol again." Dick patted his back.
"I told her I'm Red Robin."
"You what?!"
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