A moment of respite.

Antoine was definitely out of his element. The music was loud, the ballroom was huge, his suit was uncomfortable, and perhaps worst of all was that there were too many people here. As fun as masquerades were to write about in stories, to attend one was a different beast entirely. He really didn’t want to be here right now. Why had his editor convinced him to come here, again…?

He tried to take a sip of champagne from the flute in his hands, only to come back with nothing. Empty, he thought mournfully, though he didn’t remember drinking through it so quickly. Antoine wasn’t tipsy enough yet; he had to get another drink, but was loath to leave his safe little corner by the hors d'oeuvres table. His eyes scanned the crowd for any passing servants—many were expertly weaving through the throngs of people, offering flutes of champagne and glasses of wine to the chatting partygoers, but none seemed to be close enough for him to beckon over.

That is, until a particular servant caught his eye: a sloth-horned bun who was close enough that Antoine was able to give him the most pathetic, pleading look he could muster as soon as their eyes met. Please take pity and come over here, the look seemed to scream. He really hoped that they would heed his silent call.

Carmen had been ‘mauled’ a few times already when he had helped with serving the more crowded areas, and the coffee bun had had enough of that.  Trying to avoid mingling with too many people, while also still doing his job found him in the farther corners of the venue where others who didn’t want to be bothered also lurked.  It was a nice breather before he’d inevitably be thrown back into the fray. 

During one of his typical rounds, champagne stocked on the tray in hands, he had made eye contact with one of the guests.  It was just a quick glance, Carmen prepared to continue his route before the look Antoine had been giving him registered. ‘Why does he look so pitiful...?’ Carmen, thought, turning his head to see that Antoine was still shooting him that same pathetic look, he must need something.  

Putting on a smile, Carmen changes course and heads over to Antoine.  As he reaches the other, he extends the full tray to Antoine for the other to take their pick, “Need a drink?” Carmen asks, a hint of sympathy in his tone.  

Antoine’s shoulders almost visibly sag in relief when Carmen makes his way over to him, and the corners of his lips quirk upwards in an awkward, lopsided smile. “I’m afraid a single drink won’t cut it, but it’s a start,” He says dryly, plucking up the first glass he sees. He wasn’t really picky when it came to alcohol, and the sights and sounds around him were so overwhelming that he wouldn’t really register the taste of whatever he was drinking anyway.

Taking a sip of his drink, Antoine finds himself strangely comforted by the man’s presence. Maybe it’s because he isn’t here as a guest, and there’s no fear of obnoxious posturing from a man who just wants to do their job and get the night over with. A part of him feels like he’s holding the guy hostage by having him in this emptier part of the ballroom, while another part of him would like to think that they’re in the same boat of wanting to be as far away from the crowds as possible.

“Big parties aren’t really my thing,” He ends up blurting out, feeling the need to explain himself. “I just write books for a living, so I’m supposed to be living a low-key life, right? But my editor was kinda persistent about me showing up here. Said something about letting the investors know that I was a real person and—uh.” The blonde winces when he realizes he was about to start venting to this complete stranger, and downs the rest of the champagne in one fell swoop. Back onto the tray it goes, replaced by another full glass. “Sorry. You’re the first person I’ve talked to tonight, so maybe the alcohol is finally starting to work its magic? Haha…” Ugh, he hoped it was. He didn’t want to remember embarrassing himself like this tomorrow.

As Antoine prattles on Carmen’s face softens, he could see the anxiety seeping into the other’s speech and expression as Antoine kept talking.  It wasn’t something that had bothered Carmen, he was the type who often sat back and listened when other’s rambled.  He chews on the idea of comforting Antoine, assuring the other bun that there wasn’t anything to apologize for.  But, these types of people didn’t like dwelling on the things they found ‘embarrassing’.

“I’m not really into events like this either, but the pay was a little hard to ignore.” Carmen keeps the position of the tray near Antoine, turning the tray when the writer would put an empty glass on it, keeping the filled flutes in reach.   

He could just hand off a few drinks and be on his way, back to his rounds as a server tending to all the guests in the venue.  But, Carmen’s feet remained planted where he stood, deciding instead to make conversation with the seemingly anxious writer.  “You write books? What genre do you write about?” He was curious, he knew another writer but considering that one wrote raunchy romance novels, Carmen doesn’t think he was invited to this party. 

“Yeah, a party hosted by Angora? I bet she wouldn’t even bother looking at a bill if you gave her one. Must be nice,” He muses, only realizing afterwards that the man has actually humored him with a response. That meant that Antoine wasn’t being annoying, right? He counts it as a small win and clears his throat. “I-I mean, aside from having to deal with all of these people, that is. I can’t imagine this being a fun part of the job unless you’re a social butterfly or something…”

The alcohol has to be taking root at last, because the glutton-horned man doesn’t even think twice when he answers Carmen’s question. “Oh, y’know, just porn. Sex sells, and all that.” Another glass is emptied, and another is taken off the tray. “I’ll write in any genre, but I like fantasy the most. Better way to flex your, uh…creative muscles.” And include all sorts of crazy kinks that can’t reasonably exist in real life, he wants to say, but thinks better of it. He also thinks better of saying that he writes fanfic when he can spare the time for it—no need to make himself look like more of a loser than he’s probably already doing now.

He gives Carmen a contemplative look for a moment before he decides to ask a question in turn. “What about you, do you do…” He waves his hands in a broad gesture, looking at the tray in the taller man’s hands. “...catering stuff normally, or is this just a side hustle kind of thing? Since you don’t like big events like these, do you normally stick to smaller gigs…?”

It takes a lot for Carmen not to laugh as the writer talks about his work, it reminded him of the only other writer he knew about.  Sex sells indeed.  Carmen is no prude, just nodding along as Antoine further elaborates.  He briefly wonders if he’s ever seen any of Antoine’s work around, perhaps they had a pen name they wrote under instead, it wasn’t like Carmen knew the other bun’s name to begin with.  

But then, as anyone would expect, the questions are turned to him.  It’s natural to ask someone about themselves when one asks about you.  Polite to show that same interest.  Carmen wasn’t typically so forthcoming with information about himself, but his occupation was the one thing he wasn’t secretive about.  “Oh, no.  Not normally, I just wanted to see what an event like this would be like.  Usually I just make coffee.”  He’s a barista, nothing more, nothing less.  Carmen wouldn’t change that, he enjoyed the simplicity it offered.  He was a nobody, and content with that. 

“From serving coffee, to serving alcohol.  Not that hard of a switch.” He explains, holding up the drinks on his tray as to further push his point.  

Antoine perks up at the mention of coffee. Giving Carmen a humored look, he asks, “Oho, a barista? Are you the type who gets haughty about grinders and using the right coffee beans? Or is it just a way to get paid? There’s this cafe near my place that I like going to since I don’t have to say much—the barista there always has a roast suggestion for whatever I happen to order to eat, but he rolls his eyes at me when I get something else. He’s so snooty.”

As if the universe itself has been listening in on their conversation and has now decided that the blonde was enjoying himself a little too much, a man’s voice comes from the distance, cautiously calling for Antoine. Antoine picks up on the voice immediately and groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“My editor. I can hear him. Oh Murmur, I think he wants to introduce me to the publishing house’s investors.” He’s almost tempted to use Carmen as a shield, but the poor man has already had to stand around with him while he makes random small talk. There was no use subjecting him to more of Antoine’s awkwardness. Deciding he’s still not tipsy enough, he chokes down the rest of the champagne in his glass and takes a third, giving Carmen an apologetic look.

“Well, I guess it’s time for me to try and socialize. Sorry for holding you up like this,” he says sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “But I, um…I appreciate it. A lot. And the drinks.”

“I enjoy coffee as much as your average joe...” Carmen starts, idly scratching his cheek with a free hand.  “But, I’m not going to get picky about grinders or beans.  Except for dark roasts, I’m not a fan of how they usually taste.” Carmen preferred lighter roasts, but that was as far as it went for being ‘picky’.  “I just enjoy how simple it is.”  The job was low stress, you made coffee and that’s it.  Sure, customers could get annoying at times, but they were also easy enough to deal with.  

With their conversation coming to an end, it looked like Antoine had hidden away for long enough.  The server offers another smile, watching as the other bun took more alcohol, shaking his head as the writer offered his apologies.  “Don’t worry about it.  Good luck with your socializing.” Carmen laughs before turning away to head towards the bar.  Antione had depleted most of his tray...