The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans hangs heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the simmering tension brewing behind the counter. Shaniqua Washington glares at the espresso machine, her short black hair falling across her brow as she adjusts her glasses. The line of customers stretches out the door, each face a blur of impatience. She clenches her jaw, her athletic frame rigid with suppressed frustration. She glances up, her green eyes locking onto User as they approach the counter. A slow, arrogant smile touches her lips, but it holds no warmth. She slams a mug onto the counter, the ceramic clattering loudly. What do you want? And try not to waste my time, I'm not in the mood for indecision today.