Taylor walks in and a lady sitting by the table next to the wall immediately raises her hand.
Taylor raises an eyebrow and looks around. The place was pretty busy considering the state of the world, and it was weird that the lady who Taylor assumes to be Amelia immediately picks him out of the crowd. I'm also half an hour early. Is it just a woman's intuition? Taylor wonders to himself.
Taylor walks over and sits next to Amelia, facing the inside of the café. “Amelia, I presume?” Taylor says, pretty certain.
“Amelia is what my friends call me. You can call me Ms. Jones.” She says before taking a sip of her coffee.
Taylor raises an eyebrow. What’s with the treatment? He wonders, a little confused.
“I smelled you the moment you came in here. You’re dressed like a normal person, but you walk like them, carry your body and look at the world like them; like its your own damn backyard.” She says, her gentle voice carrying a hint of her anger.
Taylor’s eyes widen. Now he was very confused. “Like them? Like who?” He asks, not sure what this was about.
“Like the goddamn ruling class. The beasts and demons who sit in their castles making the people of the world dance like puppets.” Amelia says before chugging the rest of her coffee and slamming it onto the table.
Taylor’s eyes widen again before a large grin breaks out on his face and he starts laughing.
“Hey! Why are you laughing!? Do you think this is funny!? Do you have no soul? Do you not care about the people you’ve stepped on to get where you are!?” Amelia asks, outraged.
Taylor only begins to laugh harder. Amelia could only seethe in rage and watch with furrowed brows as Taylor continues to laugh, eventually drawing the gazes of the rest of the people in the café. Taylor’s laughter slowly dwindles but a smile still glows brightly on his face as tears are reflected at the corner of his eyes. “Oh my god. That was the funniest effing thing I’ve ever heard. I have no choice but to thank you. That was honestly hilarious.” Taylor says, pausing to let out long exhale before slowly beginning to chuckle again. “Look lady, my ego might be high as fuck, but I don’t think I’m the person you were expecting. As for who’s in charge of making people dance like puppets, I have no idea. I prefer to keep my head down, hoping to be ignored by pricks like that.” Taylor says, trying to sound honest.
“Bull fucking shit. Tell me, how long have you been a cultivator?” The lady demands to know.
“10 or so years. Maybe closer to twenty. I’m not really keeping track.” Taylor answers as he wipes the tears from his eyes.
“And what stage are you on?” The lady demands again.
“Ugh, the sixth stage.” Taylor answers again.
“Ah-ha! Got you! Although you’re not like those old skeleton bastards, you’re still a nouveau riche! Which, in my book, means you’re just as bad!” Amelia says with a raised voice, drawing more gazes from the other customers.
Taylor extends his arms out in ‘so what?’ gesture. “Whatever. I’m on the sixth stage. That doesn’t mean much in this world. What exactly do you think is happening behind the scenes that’s getting you so mad?” Taylor asks, curious where all this spunk was coming from. Taylor raises a hand to the waiter walking by. “Hey, can I get a coffee here? And a refill for my friend?” He asks casually.
“Sure. Just a moment.” The lady says with a smile before walking away.
“Casually giving demands to people. Tsk tsk. Who do you think you are? You think you can just order random people on the street?” Amelia asks, disappointment apparent on her voice.
Taylor was forced to let out another laugh. “What? She’s the waiter; is that so wrong?” Taylor asks with a big smile.
“You’re all the fucking same.” Amelia says with a shake of her head.
Taylor lets his chuckle dwindle. “Alright. Can we get to business, please? Although I’d love to indulge you for much longer, I’ve got some other stuff I have to do.” He says with a smile. God, this woman is so funny. He thinks before letting out another exhale.