Gemotions

He tapped his manicured fingers on the polished countertop of the cafe. The barista, usually so efficient, was currently in a state of mild panic. It seemed a certain Mr. Davies had been given… well, let's just say a less-than-desirable prognosis. And *his* file? Apparently, had been mistakenly mixed up with *his* - Arthur’s.

Arthur savored the aroma of his freshly brewed espresso, the rich scent a perfect contrast to the dreary weather outside. He took a slow sip, letting the warmth spread through him. He was fit, a picture of vitality. The error, of course, was quickly rectified.

He paid for his drink with a flourish, leaving a generous tip. The barista, still looking distraught, could only manage a weak, "Have a good day, sir." Arthur merely offered a polite nod, his shoulders subtly squared. He certainly would.