Kai had found the recipe in a grimoire disguised as a beat-up zine, tucked behind a loose brick in the alley behind the Koffin Bean café. The instructions weren't in grams or ounces, but in attitudes . "One measure of disrespect for subtlety. A twist of spite. Two shots of espresso pulled from beans roasted in a kiln of broken promises."
And Kai, for the first time in a very long time, smiled. He took another sip, felt the spice claw down his throat, and said to Joss, loud enough for the whole café to hear: brutalmaster dirty chai
The first sip was pain. The second was clarity. Kai had found the recipe in a grimoire