Café Urbain

Employees

 * Matthieu Valois (owner)
 * Lady Esmerelda Boleyn (waitress)

Archives

 * Archive One
 * Archive Two

Esme and Valerie
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Matthieu and Cas
MV Matthieu was sitting in the middle of the cafe, running through some papers detailing the months revenue. All numbers and tables. It wasn't his favourite part of the job, he usually liked being behind the bench making the coffee and dealing with the customers rather than the economic side of it all. But he had to do what he had to do. He hadn't done much whilst he was in the UK but he was surviving and had a happy life. He was leaving his house, walking through the streets, feeling the cold air on his face without being bothered by anyone. It was a good life. Even if he struggled with English sometimes and didn't have many people to talk too. He had an honest job, honest money, and was free to make a life of himself that he wanted.

MV Matthieu liked when it rained. He liked hearing the rain drops hitting the windows of the cafe and the glass panels on the roof. It created an atmosphere that he loved–it also generated customers getting out of the rain. When he heard someone erupting into the cafe Matthieu looked up, his attention simply drawn towards the commotion rather than actually being aware of what was happening. Sometimes customers were violent but it was rare. Especially in a cafe like his. It took him a moment to realise exactly who he was looking at. Cassian. He'd certainly grown and aged since they last saw each other–obviously. It had been like...what? Six years? Five years? A lot of years since they saw one another. Since...Since Matthieu lashed out. Of course Cassian was going to look older and different. Matthieu hadn't kept up with him. He couldn't. He'd be overwhelmed with guilt and regret. Guilt at how he had lashed out like he had. Regret in how he didn't reach out too apologise. "Cassian," he said, calling out as he stood up, his chair scraping on the ground. "Are you okay?"

MV "Yeah, yeah it's me," he said with a small smile, rubbing the back of his neck. Since when was Cas in London? Of all places to run into him, it was over the channel. "Did you get stuck in the rain?" he asked, walking over to Cas and poked his head out of the door. "A storm is coming." He wasn't sure why he was saying this but he was trying to make some conversation and make the other more relaxed. "Funny running you into here, I thought you were still in France. When did you do the move over? Or are you just here for a holiday?"

MV Matthieu looked down at the connected hands, taken aback by the sudden gesture. How they had ended so long ago, he didn't expect Cas to want to be around him much. Even though he was happy to see him again, Matthieu expected Cas to be...angry. Distant. A stranger. He certainly didn't expect him to reach out and hold his hand. Matthieu found the stuttering endearing, found it was reminiscent of how life use to be before Matthieu messed it all up. "...sure," he breathed out, nodding. "I have an office in the back. It's small but...but it will do." With that, he jerked his head to the side, pulling his hand away and leading him into the back. The office was relatively small. Small compared to what Matthieu was use to in France anyway. "Did you know I was going to be here?"

MV Matthieu stared at Cassian as he spoke, in a state of disbelief. "You followed me...to England? Nearly a year ago?" He repeated. Part of Matthieu wondered if Cassian was stalking him. Spent his time following Matthieu around taking pictures or something. This idea was quickly disputed both by Cassian and himself. Matthieu didn't really think Cassian was that sort of guy. At least, not when he knew him anyway. "You should have talked to me. Merlin's beard, Cassian, you absolute fool." Matthieu hadn't made any friends so it would have been nice to have a friendly face. "Look, about what happened...I'm really sorry. It was completely wrong of me with the way I reacted and I should have apologized long ago."

MV "Of course...of course you can hug me, you buffoon...or should I get you a tissue instead?" He asked, lightly hitting Cassian on the chest, trying to lighten the mood and make the other laugh or something. God, he didn't want to have Cassian crying in his office. Matthieu hated seeing people cry and it took him a while to accept people crying over happiness. Was this over happiness? Or was Cassian upset? Matthieu wasn't sure.

MV "Cas...it's been...what? Seven years?" He asked, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm not going to be hung up over a stupid thing I did as a kid. I don't even know how I'd hold any of that against you. Of course we're okay. Of course we are. We can start fresh...I'm sure both of us are very different people than what we remember we are. How about a coffee? On the house."

MV Matthieu couldn't lie–it was nice hearing Mat again. Especially from Cas. Matthieu still didn't let anyone he knew–even the family members he was still in contact with–call him that. Just because it was Cas's thing. "As I said, I really don't know what I'd be mad at you for," he said with a soft smile, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling as he did so. As lonely as Matthieu was, he never stopped smiling and so wrinkles had formed around his eyes. "You should have called when you came to England if you missed me," he said jokingly. "But I should have called. Years ago. I'm sorry I didn't." With that, Matthieu moved around the bench. "So...what do you like? I make everything and, trust me, you will not find anything better tasting than the drinks I can make. Even though I don't have any magic, you will believe I do."

MV "Have the blue heaven, it's too die for," Matthieu said as he began to slice the cheesecake, wanting to give him it first before beginning the drink. He was generous with the amount he gave Cassian–it was meant to be a thin slice but he went with a lot more. "So what else have you been doing instead of watching me from afar?" He asked as he slid the plate across the bench.

MV Matthieu was in the middle of making the drink when Cas began to rant on about how good the cheesecakes were. "I'm touched you think they're good but I can't take credit for it," he confessed with a small smile, "I hired a couple of cooks to bake them every morning. They deliver them all daily. You know I'm not much of a chef," he said jokingly, "not when I was raised with a million chefs to cook whatever I wanted. A book, huh? What's it about?"