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Another coffee gif out of (most likely) much more to come :S
Mornings were always a bitch, and so was I without a good breakfast and a strong cup of coffee. Gladly, I'd situated myself in my favourite cafe, like most mornings before work. A croissant was on a plate in front of me, a steaming mug of coffee beside it.
I sipped from my mug slowly, more so letting the heat warm my hands than actually enjoying the drink. I read an article from my holographic screen, the technology on the table and placed a little to my left. An article had been released on Overwatch's website, containing information on the newly captured gang they'd handed over formally to police officials.
It had all been really exaggerated, though I'd known the name of most of the gang members easily. This was really more of a result of being a journalist, but also wanting to have been the one to release that article myself. Instead, Overwatch's team had beat me to it, and the page had been trending though not been released for over twenty-four hours.
My pleasant morning had turned sour when I discovered the article. I stared at the hologram with narrowed eyes, hands clenching the mug in my grip harder than necessary. I'd have to go and explain to my boss, show him the topic had been cleared and it'd be a waste for me to cover it. I hated being second to review news. More importantly, I was angry I spent almost a month reviewing this topic, all for it to go to complete and utter shit in the end.
I swiped my finger over the image, albeit a tad rough, clearing it and opening a new tab. I sat contemplating for a while, sipping and staring at the blank hologram. I had no clue what to look up. What else would be newsworthy, something that Overwatch surely wouldn't cover?
"You really hate Overwatch, huh?" A velvety voice commented on my right, tone thick with humour. Looking over, I saw a dark-skinned man dressed in black, his smirk making the scars on his face look deterred and less threatening than they were on the regular. "Mind if I sit?"
I rose an eyebrow, "Sorry, buddy, can't you..." My voice trailed off, and as I looked around, I came to the conclusion there weren't any other seats. I sat in a booth, the seat across from me free. All other chairs were occupied, while booths were filled by families or couples across from each other. "Yeah, sure," I finally corrected myself, caving in under his awaiting gaze.
The man sat with a small shrug, setting down two bags of hidden food as well as his mug of coffee. "Do you have a grudge against Overwatch?" The man asked me after a moment of silence, watching the table before us as he spoke quietly. "Or did you have relations with the gang?" When he looked up, he quickly elaborated when he was caught under my confused gaze. "Don't worry, a guy like me could never be in Overwatch."
After he let out a small chuckle, my tension loosened considerably. "I'm (Full name)," I introduced, "I'm a journalist for Insight Communications, the publishing company. I've been tailing that gang for months, Overwatch took them down Tuesday last week. I was almost done my article, but their journalism team beat me to it."
The man, strange enough, didn't look sympathetic. He looked at me thoughtfully, analyzing me thoroughly. "That's unfortunate," He mumbled, dark eyes still watching me. "Would it be alright to ask if I could see some of your work? Just out of curiosity,"
"Oh, sure," It wasn't uncommon for someone to not have heard my name. If one of my articles were read, they focused more on the publisher rather than the writer. I pulled up an article I released last month, something simple about a nearby restaurant shutting down due to a severed finger being found in one of their dishes. "I actually got to talk to the family that found the finger," The grin on my face would have been unsettling, given the topic, but the man remained unphased. "The kid was traumatized! Found it in alfredo pasta, can you believe it? Sheer luck, I released one of the first articles about the mishap, even got direct quotes from them myself."
The man looked near impressed, nodding as he skimmed through the article on my holographic screen. "So, I take you focus more on exciting events."
"Yeah," I grinned sheepishly, "I've been trying to focus more on criminals. It's hard when Overwatch has their own publishing team, they get inside scoops. I'm only stuck with the scraps,"
"That really is unfortunate," The man repeated, resting his chin on his hand. His mug of coffee was finished, discarded on the table and long forgotten. "Do you want a job at overwatch, are you jealous of their journalists?"
"Well, yeah," I said in an obvious voice, "Everyone in the writing world wants to be them! They get to speak to the heroes themselves, they don't have to hunt for anything. I've heard, they even get to read mission reports. No research whatsoever, it'd be heaven!"
The stranger chuckled, "Well, I'm Gabriel Reyes," Whether he expected me to know the name, I wasn't sure, because it only drew up a blank in my mind. "I know some people who work in Overwatch, and I guarantee they can get you whatever job you want. If I get you an interview, would you show up?"
I rose an eyebrow, "Why would you get me an interview?" I asked, giggles sliding into my words, attempting to hide my disbelief if this proved to be a joke. "We literally just met in a coffee shop because there weren't any seats left. Even if you could get me that interview, why bother?"
"Well," Gabriel hesitated very briefly, eyes flitting out the window beside us to gaze at passersby. "Let's just say, I have a feeling you'd be great."
"A feeling?" I scoffed, "You barely read that article."
"I actually didn't read a single word," Gabriel told me honestly, eyes suddenly looking into my own. The abruptness of his gaze caught me off guard, and I nearly flinched. "Maybe if I get your number I can tell you when your interview is scheduled. That, and, maybe another coffee sometime before."
"Oh," I couldn't help but let out the soft exclamation of surprise. So that's what this was. "I-I guess-Well, there isn't really any harm..."
My voice trailed off, Gabriel smirking in triumph as he watched me squirm under his gaze. Finally, I took out my phone, cheeks scarlet. I handed my phone to him wordlessly, watching as he put in his number, then did the same for his own phone.
"I should get going," He told me as he handed me back my cell, "I was supposed to be at work ten minutes ago."
Author's note
Oof that was a ride I tried so hard to come up with ideas bUT I DID IT HA WRITERS BLOCK BACK TF UP
Question of the day:
Yeah this is a struggle begone questions you are unneeded work that gives me grey hairs
