Ken awakes as a groggy mess. He's had that exact same dream again. The one where the woman whom he doesn't know bleeds to death in his arms, and as she's choking on her own blood, she begs him to not blame himself. He's never understood why he has this dream so often, but it's a little concerning.
He considers bringing it up to his therapist as he stumbles from his room to the bathroom to get his day started.
Once he's able to shake the cobwebs of his nightmare off his brain and get some caffeine in his system, he's on his way to work.
Halfway through his shift at the café he's pretty much forgotten his dream and he's gotten into a groove of busting tables, taking orders, and making drinks when a new face walks in. Only, it's not entirely new to him.
She's the woman from his dreams. It's nice to see her not covered in blood. She gives him the same look of bewilderment and slight freight he's sure he has to be giving to her. As she sits down, he approaches her to take her order.
"Good afternoon and welcome to The Moon's Brew, my name is Ken and I'll be your server today. What would you like to order?" He gives her his best 'for the public' smile, but the way her brown eyes seem to stare into his soul does weird him out a little bit.
"Could I get a hot mocha latte? As large as possible, please." She realizes her staring was a bit much and relaxes her face, offering him a pleasant smile instead.
He still wants to freak out when her voice perfectly mirrors the girl from his dreams, but he manages a polite nod instead. "Of course, ma'am, could I interest you in any of our baked goods to go along with it? I find the vanilla-glazed croissant is a wonderful complementary dish for a mocha latte."
She gives it a moment of thought before nodding. "That sounds lovely, thank you."
"Of course! That will be out in just a moment." He turns and walks past the bar and back to the kitchen.
He takes a deep breath, shakes his head to rid himself of the disorientation, then sets out to make her order.
Once he's gotten everything together, he heads back to her table. She's occupied herself with doodling in a journal, and he catches a glimpse of her drawing before she closes the book at his arrival. It's a scene from his recurring dream.
"I dream about you sometimes." The words slip out. Thinking fast, he stutters out, "Uh- I mean- here's your order, enjoy," and turns to leave again.
"Excuse me, sir, are you okay? You seem... nervous?"
He could tell her he was fine and move on with his day, but something compelled him to open up.
"It's nothing serious, you just look a bit like someone from a dream I keep having." He gives an awkward laugh.
"Yeah, you look a bit like someone I keep dreaming about, too." She offers her hand to shake. "I'm Lyra."
He shakes. "Ken."
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