Partners [Path Unlocked 🔓]

Chapter 7 - Jerries Java

The place Connor had driven them to appeared to be a rather uncommentable, squat building squeezed uncomfortably between two taller, more modern structures that towered well over the uncommonly understated exterior of the coffee shop. The small building's exterior lacked the flashing lights and bright, glimmering shine of innovation dominating the current culture and was rather formed from rust shaded bricks with oak trimmings melding smoothly into the demure exterior with little contrast as most stores and restaurants capitalized on in this day and age. The only prominent piece of decor the building had to speak for in its entirety was a slightly askew wooden sign with the words "Jerries Java" printed across it in bold, black lettering that curled upwards on the tail of every a and twirled each curl of a j into an elaborate flourish.

Even the spelling of this bust joint was lackluster...

Connor was already pushing open the large, wooden door and stepping inside by the time Hank managed to fight his way free of the restrictive confines of the drastically undersized car, struggling far more than he would like to admit with the task of carefully unfolding his cramped limbs and pulling his large body through the crunched door of the vehicle. The android nearly let out a disgruntled huff as he finally slammed the passenger door shut with a keen note of victory to the way he flung the metal door closed and perhaps with a touch more force than was strictly necessary but the robot quickly reigned in any such frivolous reaction and forced himself into rigid motion after the detective.

The first thing Hank noted about the shop was the overall lack of light existing in the shady place, naught but a few dimly glowing, caged, hanging light bulbs and the occasional warm shaded wall lamp fighting back against the overbearing darkness threatening to swallow the tiny coffee shop whole. All of the furniture was wooden: The long oaken tables, the circular stools shoved alongside said tables, and even the low rising counter running the length of the back of the shop to separate the seating area from the exposed kitchen all proved to be entirely wooden - 100% oak with a resin preservative laid over top to prevent wear and ruin, according to Hank's automatic scan.

The overbearing aroma of cigarette smoke and coffee flooded the android's olfactory sensors, more of a plethora of data abruptly converging over the robot's processors than anything but a tad overwhelming in its strength nevertheless. Hank's systems flashed informative description after description across the machine's field of vision as his programming fought to analyse the onslaught of data the instant it was made available: Nicotine, caffeine, sweat...

"Con-man!" A chipper voice chirped merrily just as Hank pulled the door shut behind him and turned to see the guy he was following leaned, elbows propped, against the oaken counter on the far side of the joint, smiling lightly at a younger looking male standing behind the counter.

The dude who had spoken had a kind sort of face, plump cheeks constantly cresting his forest eyes the slightest bit as a continuous smile tugged persistently at the man's thin lips. Short ginger hair swept gently to the right and lay combed neatly flat on the opposite side of the shop worker's head, paired with a light dash of gentle orange freckles splattered across the guy's face to cross over the bridge of his nose and decorate his cheeks. A rapid facial scan indicated him to be a Jerry Cove, born June 22, 2013, no criminal record to date, and owner of Jerries Java.

"Hey, Jerry!" Connor greeted easily, pushing himself up so that only one elbow braced him against the counter as he reached the freed up hand into his coat pocket to produce his cigarette pack. "How've you been?" Detective Anderson questioned companionably, tilting his pack slightly so that its contents slid forward a bit before plucking a cigarette from the top of the pile free with his ring and middle finger while keeping the box firmly clasped within the rest of his digits, tapping the butt of the container lightly against the countertop to even the remaining items left inside back out.