I needed to intervene.
“What she means, Frederick, is what size mug of coffee do you want to order?” I pointed at the menu display hanging over Katie’s head. At the bottom were little chalk-drawn cartoons of small, medium, and large coffee cups—or, Moon, Supernova, and Galaxy—and their corresponding prices. I’d drawn the mugs for that display menu my first week there. That had been fun. “The drinks here come in different-sized mugs depending on how much people want to drink. Each size has a corresponding space-related name.”
Understanding dawned across his handsome face. “I see.” He glanced at Katie. “You should have said as much from the beginning.”
For the first time, Katie’s patience was showing visible cracks. She glanced at me and murmured, “You know this guy?”
“Sort of,” I admitted sheepishly. “Frederick, what size mug do you want Katie to get for you?”
He seemed to ponder the question very seriously. “What do normal people purchase here? That is the size I would like.”
“He’ll have a large We Are Vivacious,” I blurted out before Katie had a chance to answer. This conversation needed to end as soon as possible. “Sorry—I mean, he’ll have a Galaxy-sized We Are Vivacious. I’ll have a Moon-sized We Are Empowered, with extra foam.”
I dug into my wallet to pull out my credit card, but Frederick put his hand on my arm.
“I will pay for the drinks,” he said, his tone brooking no opposition. Out of nowhere, he pulled out a neon-purple bag that looked a lot like the fanny pack my grandpa used to wear on our family vacations to Disney World. He unzipped its front pouch, and a motley assortment of coins—dozens, hundreds of them—spilled out of it and all over the counter in front of us.
I stared down at the pile in complete bafflement. There must have been at least fifteen different currencies on the counter. Some sort of looked like gold doubloons. Were those actually a thing?
Katie, to her credit, didn’t even bat an eye. “Sorry. We’re cashless.” She pointed to the credit card reader in front of us.
Frederick stared first at it, then at her, with an utterly blank expression. “What is that?”
“I’ll pay for the drinks,” I said, hurriedly. Frederick allowed me to elbow him out of the way, still staring at the credit card reader in abject confusion.
“But—”
“You can pay me back later,” I said, inserting my credit card in the machine. “With your gold doubloons.”
* * *
Frederick glanced at me over the rim of his We Are Vivacious. He sniffed its contents with obvious distaste.
“I remember loving coffee,” he mused, setting it back down on the table. It was still full, and still steaming hot. “Now it just smells like dirt water to me.”
He sounded sad. How much of his old self had he lost when he’d changed into what he was now? But there’d be time for exploring that question later. I needed other answers first.
I cleared my throat.
“So,” I began. “Before I ran out the other night, you said you could explain everything. That you had more to tell me.”
If Frederick was surprised by my sudden change of subject, he showed no sign of it. “Yes. It . . . is a long story,” Frederick said. His eyes were sad and distant. “And one I should have shared with you from the outset. I apologize again for not telling you sooner, but if you are willing to listen, I would like to share it with you now.”
“It’s what I’m here for,” I said. “I hope at least part of this long story has to do with why a centuries-old vampire with no apparent need for money placed a Craigslist ad looking for a roommate.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile. I refused to be distracted by how handsome he looked when he did those half smiles. Especially when they made his dimple pop. “It does.”
“I had a feeling,” I said. “Go on, then.”
“Perhaps I should give you a condensed version. Otherwise, we will be here all night.”
I sipped my cappuccino （it was good—Katie made a mean We Are Empowered） and then licked my lips. Frederick’s eyes tracked the movement of my tongue with interest. I pretended not to notice.
“A condensed version is probably a good idea,” I agreed. “Gossamer’s closes at eleven. Katie won’t like it if we’re still here.”
“I wouldn’t want to anger her,” he mused. “I suspect she has had just about enough of me already.”