Wash had never been a coffee drinker in the past, but over the past several months a cup or two had become something of a morning ritual. The caffeine was good for him. He needed it. It helped his head, especially when he woke up to the sensations of a migraine percolating at the back of his skull.
Usually he made coffee at home and drank it while he listened to the news and, lately, while he scrolled through the Net and flirted with the want-ads. However, with everything that had happened the week before, he didn't have the milk in the fridge or the coffee to make a full pot. Besides, it was nice to be outside and not having the world looking as though it were on the edge of insanity.
Wash blended in with the rest of the coffee shop patrons in his loose fitting jeans and simple t-shirt. He felt a little naked without his sidearm, having gotten used to carrying it again over the last week. But a gun wasn't necessary at a coffee shop.
He waited patiently for his turn, moving up through the line slowly, but steadily until finally he was at the counter.