Limitless Evolution As a Snake

The spider barista is looking at me like I personally sealed his fate, and honestly, I get it.

I pivot, my coils shifting on the floor, and find myself staring down a small crowd that definitely wasn’t there a second ago.

Dad’s there in the doorway with three guys from the warehouse, all of them still in their work gear, looking around this cafe like they wandered into a crime scene. Which, fair, most places I show up to kind of become one eventually.

"Oh yeah," I say, waving a coil in their direction like this explains everything. "That’s my dad and my work mates."

The spider does not look reassured by this information. If anything, he looks worse, like I just told him the bomb has a second bomb inside it. His little barista apron flutters from the way his whole body won’t stop trembling, and I feel a little bad- I really do- but also I still want my drink, so.

Old Mate pipes up in my skull.

[System: Yeah nah mate, you’re not helping. Bloke thinks you’re about to eat his manager or something.]

Not my problem, and I’m hungry, not homicidal. There’s a difference.

Before I can figure out how to un-terrify an arachnid, the door chimes again, and this time it’s a much better problem to have.

Cherry and Lyra walk in together, and Cherry’s got that look on her face like she got dressed extra carefully today, wearing a cute pink crop top and a white tennis skirt, hair a bit crazy, but what do you expect from a succubus.

Lyra’s just Lyra, clean and unbothered, her eyes methodically sweeping the room, a cop habit she can’t ever quite turn off.

Cherry’s eyes land on me first, obviously, as they always do.

Her horn stumps give this little twitch, and I watch her whole posture shift, shoulders coming up, hands finding the edge of her coat to clutch at like she’s bracing for something.

Then her eyes slide past me to the huddle of men by the door, and I watch the exact moment the temperature in the room drops about ten degrees.

Dad gives an awkward little wave in her direction, the universal human gesture for "hello, I am not a threat," and Cherry’s face does something I can only describe as feral raccoon meets territorial dragon.

"Oh no," I mutter, mostly to myself. "Oh no, here we go."

"Large iced Ami," I say, sliding up to the counter with Lyra and Cherry trailing behind. "Large unicorn drink for her, and a straight shot of espresso."

"Yes, yes, of course, right away," he says, already scrambling, four hands moving at once like he’s been waiting all week for someone interesting to walk through that door.

Lyra leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching the

poor guy nearly vibrate out of his exoskeleton. "He does know you nearly ate a minotaur a few days ago, right?"

"Probably why he likes me so much," I say. "Consistency. People respect consistency."

The barista’s already halfway through steaming milk with two extra hands while the other two work the register, humming to himself, tail-end of a smile stuck on his face the whole time, that smile falters for a second when he hears about the minotaur but he shakes it out of his head.

His eyes flick from the warehouse guys to me, then back again. A decision clicks. He reaches under the counter, pulls out a handwritten RESERVED sign, and plants it on the nearest corner table without a word, already turning back to the milk frother before anyone can ask.

The drinks show up quick enough, and honestly the unicorn thing Cherry ordered looks like a science experiment gone rainbow, whipped cream on top with actual edible glitter, I don’t ask questions, I just watch her carry it like it’s a trophy.

My iced coffee shows up looking normal at least, and Lyra’s espresso is just a tiny cup that she throws back in one go like it’s her 5th shot of vodka.

That’s when the door chimes again, and Hana walks in, filling up the whole doorway the way she does, ears already swivelling toward our corner before she even finishes stepping inside.

She gives Lyra a nod, then Cherry a nod, short and businesslike, the kind of nod that means we’re leaving now and not up for discussion.

"Car’s out front," she says, and that’s the whole sentence, that’s all the explanation anyone’s getting.

Cherry looks like she wants to argue, mouth already opening, but Lyra just puts a hand on her shoulder and steers her toward the door, throwing me a look over her shoulder like, behave yourself, which, rude, when have I ever not behaved.

The three of them disappear out the door and into whatever unmarked car Hana’s got waiting, and just like that it’s me, Dad, and the warehouse crew, gathered in a coffee shop like we’re about to have a business meeting instead of whatever this actually is.

Dad slides into the corner booth under the RESERVED sign as he ordered it himself, and honestly, maybe he did; wouldn’t put it past him. He’s already got a coffee in hand, steam still coming off it, and I have no idea where that came from because I definitely didn’t see him order one.

He takes a sip, nods slowly like he’s approving of the roast, and looks genuinely pleased with himself.

"Hey Dad," I added, coiling onto the bench across from him because someone has to break the ice. "How’s it going?"

"Good, good," he says, and his voice has that easy calm to it that always makes me feel like I’m one wrong word away from a lecture. "Casino’s doing well. This coffee is quite good too. We should meet here more often."

I don’t know, I think the barista might have a stroke...

I don’t remember agreeing to make this a regular thing, but arguing with Raymond about scheduling feels like a losing battle before it even starts, so I just nod along.

The two guys standing behind him shift their weight, and that’s when I actually look at them properly for the first time.

Older, both of them, one with silver streaking through his hair, with a little bit of red.

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