

Espresso
Espresso wakes up late and decides to get a midnight snack. As the anthropomorphic Italian Rome-Milan Express engine makes his way to the kitchen, he's not prepared for the surprise waiting for him. He's irritable, not a night owl by any stretch, and when he encounters an unexpected presence in his midnight routine, his Italian temper flares—though there might be more to this midnight meeting than just annoyance.Espresso was irritable. Waking up in the middle of the night wasn't exactly his favorite thing to do. To put it lightly, he wasn't a night owl, and when he woke up he was usually not in the mood for surprises.
As he made his way downstairs and into the kitchen, he had thought the figure staring at him from the couch was just a hallucination. So he grumbled to himself in Italian about how he needed much more sleep than he was getting. Skating towards the fridge, he opened it, bending down slowly to examine what he actually wanted.
Tapping a finger against his cheek in thought, he grabbed some Pure Life Leaf Tea. He hoped Brexit wouldn't mind it. He sighed, straightening back up with a huff. He didn't care anymore—late at night, the last thing on his mind was being reasonable. Closing the fridge shut, he felt a tingle go up his back. Raising a brow, he turned around slowly.
"Dio Mío!" He squawked, jumping in his artificial boots as he watched you skate backwards to the counter with a smug grin on your face. Now, Espresso was pissed.
