Heathens

5 » Human

 I'm gonna be honest.

I've never had Starbucks before. Ever. It's because I'm not a slave to societal standards. And making my own coffee was so fucking cheap, why would I bother with this corporate nonsense? I just hate it. I hate society, and I hate Starbucks. That's why I've never had it.

Yet, here I was, a scribbled order written on my hand because I didn't have paper at the time and a twenty dollar bill. "I want some coffee. If you get it for me, you can have some for free," is what Bruce said to me. He said he wanted Starbucks like the basic bitch he is and here I am, standing in line, surrounded by these absolute fucking nerds. I mean, ugh. There was a girl wearing non-prescription nerd glasses and uggs. The way she said 'pumpkin spice latte' made me wish I had my hidden blade on me. It seemed like this chick belonged in Portland or Seattle, not Gotham. There was a guy typing on his super expensive Apple laptop, and when he caught me looking at him, he looked me dead in the eyes and said "I'm a writer. Your staring interrupts my brilliance, creativity, and flow of thought. Fuck off." I've never been told 'fuck off' so calmly.

It was finally my turn to order and I was about to have an anxiety attack. Why were these people so judgmental? It seems like they think this overpriced creamer with a hint of coffee made them better people. They're mostly college kids too. They're broke as fuck and acting as if they're better than me because they splurged and bought a 'pumpkin spice latte'. I wish I could just fuck off right through the door but oh no, my boss needs his own 'pumpkin spice latte'.

"Hi, welcome to Starbucks. What can I get for you?" This girl with super curly dark brown hair, and almost black eyes gave me a good vibe though. She seemed nice. Why are barista's always so pretty and nice? I haven't been in too many coffee shops but every single one of them has been awesome. Her name tag read Nicole, but I saw it as "nice-ole."

"Uh, can I get two pumpkin spice lattes?" I asked.

"Sure, what size?" Nicole asked.

Shit, I forgot. I glanced down at my hand. "Grand," I said.

"Grande?" she asked once again, correcting me.

"Yup," I responded.

When I paid, I gave her the entire twenty dollar bill and let her keep the change. Bruce didn't need the money and I'm sure that girl did. Plus, he really mind fucks me so this is to spite him. When I got my drinks back, I tasted mine and I hated myself because I actually liked it. Fuck Starbucks for reeling me into their corporate bullshit. I liked the drink but I will never order from there again. As I was walking back to Wayne Enterprises, I stopped to think about my reality right now. I'm fucking Raven Black and I just fetched coffee for Bruce Wayne, my target. Jacob would be disappointed in me. He probably already was. My mentor didn't teach me anything, apparently. I just hate feeling like this. Criminals in Gotham are scared to death of me and here I am, acting like a ball sack. One kick and I'm on the floor.

I think I need to get drunk tonight at the bar. I haven't been there in a while and I'm losing myself. I'm losing my pride and dignity by doing basic shit like this. Spending time with some murderous psychopaths might do the trick for me. I kinda missed drinking with the Joker a little. He was fun when he was drunk.

I finally got back to Wayne Enterprises, and went up to Bruce's office. I gave him his coffee and sat down, sipping mine, hating every sip but I loved it so much.

"Thank you," Bruce said. "There wasn't any change?" he asked.

I glanced up at him. "Nope. Came out to an even twenty bucks."

"Christ, that's expensive," he commented.

"Right!" I exclaimed. "I don't know why you fetched me to get a 'pumpkin spice latte' when you have a coffee maker upstairs."