Cereals Always Good With Honey

"It's...good..."

A shaggy, exhausted-looking, black-haired man walks into a cafe off the side of the street, it's a couple blocks down from U.A. and marks the end of his patrolling route like a period at the end of a sentence.

The smell of freshly ground coffee beans floods his nose as he pushes the door open with a slight grimace, the bell ringing. He wasn't expecting it to be open at this time of night. Briefly, he chances a glance at his watch, it is currently 4 in the morning. Humming thoughtfully, he makes sure the door closes behind him.

Making his way to the non-existent line, the fluorescent lights are cool against his back, dim and anti-eye strain as he taps at the cool marble texture and stares up at the seemingly floating sign that reads 'Order & Pick Up' with a little arrow pointing to where he's standing.

There are people sparsely spread out around the cafe, sipping at their selected drinks, barely talking even though there are people around them. Most look like tired college students trying to pull an all-nighter and finish assignments before the sun rises.

The cafe is doused in a soft warm feeling of content, the comfortable temperature blanketing the entirety of the building. Shouta feels himself burry further into his capture gear, the stressors of his night job seeping from his hands and arms.

He feels like jello despite the nagging in the back of his mind that it's bad for him to be relaxing in such an open and unguarded place, that at least some of his body should be facing the door so he could assess any possible threats before they were presented.

But he can't, and the voice at the back of his mind shouts at him that this could be the effect of a quirk, but he knows it's not. If it was a quirk, it would make Shouta's eyes dry and watery, and right now, they seem pretty moist.

His thoughts died down as only the faint calming music played in the background, soothing the beginnings of a headache like a boat riding on calm waves after the unforgiving storm. He hadn't even noticed he closed his eyes before a squeaky, slightly nervous voice pipes up from underneath him.

"Hi, would you like to try our special?" the shaggy-haired man peeled his eyes open, looking around and spotting a black bean bag and a small throw blanket with black and calico cats next to it. Begrudgingly, he glared at it, how dare it sit there, looking so comfortable. He hears the clearing of a throat before he pulls his gaze away from the bean bag and zeroes in on the small thing in front of him.

Not a thing, a person with forest green hair and a million freckles dotting over their face, a light blush covering skin and face. His eyes were just as viridian as the hair framing his bone structure, and his lips were pulled into a thin line as he skeptically assessed the pro-hero in front of him. Aizawa quickly glanced back over to the bean bag, wishing to be anywhere, specifically over there, then here, before landing back on the small one in front of him.

"The bean bags are open, I can save you that one if you want?" The boy asks, an easy smile slipping on his face. "S-sorry.." He stutters out, his easy, customer service smile slipping into a more shy and awkward one as he brings his hand up to hide it.

"I just- I saw you eyeing it and they're pretty comfortable, speaking from experience...and I wash them every day, including the blankets so it's not like their dirty or anything.." He whispers the last part before clamping a hand over his mouth before he can continue with his mindless mumbling, the effect of his awkwardness making him jittery and shakey.

"Anyways- sir- What would you like?" He says, jumping back into his friendly customer service persona before any more of his social ineptness can seep through the cracks of his mask.

Shouta just rolls with it, taking it in stride and not hinting at the slight detour the boy's mind had made before, he sighs, digging through his pockets for his wallet before actually speaking.