Bull in a Cake Shop
Alice looked up as the bell over the cake shop door chimed, marking the entrance of a customer. It had been a slow day, and the foul weather hadn't helped. In the cold and the wet, most people drifted to cafes where they could get a seat and a hot drink along with their cake, rather than here, where they would have to protect their cake all the way home.
The customer was tall and broad-shouldered, muffled in coat and hat and scarf against the weather. He tipped his head on one side, eyeing the cakes, and Alice heard an amused snort as he clearly spotted the cupcake of the day. It was small and round, with blue icing, and the outline of a yellow rubber duck on top.
He pulled a hand out of his coat pocket and pointed to the duck cake. “I'll take two,” he rumbled, his english slightly accented but clear. “It's good weather for ducks.”
Alice smiled at the old joke and moved briskly to bag them up. “Anything else, sir?”
He tipped his head the other way, eyed the selection and picked a few from the collection kept for the odd college up on the hill, where some of the people had - specialised - tastes.
Nobody talked about the college. Everyone local knew about it though. The college took everyone who wanted to learn, human or not, wealthy or not, powerful or not, and turned out smart, sensible, well-educated graduates who didn't so much as blink at people who were different from them.
Alice had taken courses there herself as had her wife (who was also her business partner). Now, she rang up the order with a knowing smile, looking up under the hat, and handed over his bag and his change.
The Minotaur looked back at her, winked one large brown eye, dropped a hefty tip in the jar and vanished back out into the wind and the rain, closing the door behind him as he went.
