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Here's something I wrote of which I'm both fond and uncertain-- especially the last bit. Braeden's a barista stuck as an unwilling minion of Hell, working a drive-thru espresso stand out in Lynden. My protagonist is paying him a visit to poke him for info.
I'm having so much fun determining what all my characters drink. :-P (Bree's a mocha girl, and I don't think Ianto would ever drink anything with less than two shots in it.) I'm going to have to stop by the Black Drop and deliberately soak up more coffee lingo. I've already soaked up a lot by simple osmosis, but since I don't drink coffee myself, I'm not positive of my terminology. Can I say Doppio Americano? (double shot with water)
Anyway, the snippet:
"Steam wisped around Braeden’s shoulders like the breath of Hell, the hiss and rumble of the espresso machine echoing the cars crowding Meridian. Outside, the sky opened wide above them, brilliant blue above the grey concrete sprawl, while Braeden stood in his little steaming hot box, bound to the service of Hell, commuters bound for Hell, and Canadians bound for outlet malls."
I'm having so much fun determining what all my characters drink. :-P (Bree's a mocha girl, and I don't think Ianto would ever drink anything with less than two shots in it.) I'm going to have to stop by the Black Drop and deliberately soak up more coffee lingo. I've already soaked up a lot by simple osmosis, but since I don't drink coffee myself, I'm not positive of my terminology. Can I say Doppio Americano? (double shot with water)
Anyway, the snippet:
"Steam wisped around Braeden’s shoulders like the breath of Hell, the hiss and rumble of the espresso machine echoing the cars crowding Meridian. Outside, the sky opened wide above them, brilliant blue above the grey concrete sprawl, while Braeden stood in his little steaming hot box, bound to the service of Hell, commuters bound for Hell, and Canadians bound for outlet malls."
