Coffee. It wasn't as dignified as a good glass of red wine, but it would have to do at the moment. Besides, there was something gratifying about ingesting a warm beverage. It made the soul feel temporally complete. Which meant, of course, that he was going to partake.
Something incredibly not plain either, because that wouldn't suit Jareth. Not in the slightest. Maybe a caramel macchiatto or something equally as sweet. Then again, a decent cup of the flavor of the day might not have been bad, as long as it wasn't a French Roast.
Jareth knew coffee. It came from being ageless and having the proper breeding to be picky over such a thing. He walked in, confidently, and made his way to the counter.