It was day five of the Coup D'é-Tea, and it was not off to a great start. Cora's iced coffee had an emphasis on the first word—iced—making it inconsumable through her soggy paper straw. When she took home the leftover brew the night before, she figured if she removed it from the freezer as soon as she woke up, it would be perfectly thawed by the time her bus arrived at the mall. That was where she made her first mistake: she had assumed she would remember a change to her routine of eight years, and had only removed the drink as she was scrambling to put on her shoes. She couldn't afford to make another mistake that day, not when war was afoot.

Sure, the battlefield had been relatively quiet since the first day, and Fruitastic was struggling with only a bunch of frazzled workers, but that's also what worried Cora. She couldn't let her guard down even if Farron wasn't there, because as soon as she did, Fruitastic would launch another attack. Maybe they were gearing up for a promotion that would steal the rest of the customers in the food court, and Farron was lying in wait. Once the rush was at its thickest, Farron would burst through the wall beneath the giant clock, shouting "oh yeah!" before handing out fruity drinks. How else would Farron retaliate after her defeat?

A part of Cora was concerned that she had been too obnoxious over her victory in the close-off, but the rest of her was adamant that she deserved to gloat. Cora won that battle fair and square, and there was no way Farron would miss three days of work to sulk about it. Or maybe she would. All Cora knew about Farron was that she was a show-off who always looked like she wanted to murder someone and spent way too much time at the gym—probably.

Regardless of the MIA assistant manager's whereabouts, Cora needed all the help she could get to stay on her toes, hence the block of day-old coffee that she tried and failed to break with her straw as she rushed through the mall parking lot. By the time she reached the food court, there was a sufficient amount of liquid against the walls of the cup, and while her straw certainly bent easily, the sharp kinks didn't let the beverage travel far.

As soon as Cora lifted the lid to drink directly from the cup, a solid force collided with her hip.

Her eyes squeezed shut just as cold coffee washed her face, and the block of ice hit her nose soon after. She spluttered like a whale spewing brew from their blowhole, trying to dry her face with wet hands. Was it possible to be blinded by coffee? Would visions of coffee beans disco dance in her head now?

That's when the realization hit her: she was standing in the middle of the food court during the lunch rush, drowning in coffee. Around her, the crowd was painfully quiet, broken only by a high-pitched, whispered "oops" and frantic scampering from somewhere beneath her. And...what color shirt was she wearing again? If it was white, then she seriously pissed off some supernatural entity who cursed her with bad luck.

Were fruit deities a thing? She figured she was well within her rights to battle Fruitastic, but maybe consuming tropical pizza the night before had been the final straw. Perhaps pineapples took just as much offense to being added to pizza as pizza purists did. But it's not like she had physically put the fruit on it. All Cora did was trade two croissants for it with the Pizza Shack worker on her bus the night before.

Even if her shirt wasn't offering the public a sepia-filtered visual of her bra, the sudden silence was enough to warm the cold coffee covering Cora's cheeks. Her instincts told her to run and hide; her common sense reminded her that she couldn't see, and not only had she just collided with something, there was likely a cylindrical block of ice somewhere in her vicinity.

Luckily, she found the ice soon after. Unfortunately, it was her foot that made the discovery when she stepped on it.

It took everything in her power to make her fall from grace a silent one. Cora knew she could handle any physical injuries from hitting the ground. What she couldn't endure was drawing attention to herself with the high-pitched scream she was barely holding back. In some ways, it was a relief she couldn't see what was happening around her. In exchange, she was free to imagine the sneers and laughter directed at her as she fell, trying and failing to regain her balance with her flailing limbs.

Suddenly, an arm wrapped around Cora's shoulders, and she froze.

"T-thanks," Cora muttered as soon she realized she hadn't hit the ground.

But the owner of the heroic arm didn't reply. Instead, they pulled her back to her feet, then shoved something into Cora's hand that, for some reason, was still clenching the cup lid and straw. After Cora realized it was a napkin and not pity cash, Cora mumbled another thanks before wiping her face just enough to open her eyes.

A giant Angie the Orange stared back at her.

This time, Cora couldn't help but let out a startled yelp as the fruit's large cartoon eyes stared into her soul. She would have fallen over again too if not for the citrus's pudgy white-gloved hand holding onto Cora's shoulder.

What the heck was in that coffee? Maybe it really did get in her eyes.

It took a few more moments for Cora to regain her bearings, and she looked over the citrus a couple times. The obtuse mascot was a costume, she belatedly realized, with the spherical orange extending to the unfortunate employee's thighs and elbows. It was a wonder they caught Cora at all when most of their orange arms were stuck within the citrus confines, and their oversized white shoes certainly didn't help with mobility.

While Cora hadn't imagined what Angie would look like in real life, nor had she ever wanted to, the orange was shorter than she expected, with the unblinking mesh eyes in line with Cora's shoulders, and the bright green leaf and stem extending just above her head. As Cora stared at the fruit's wide smile, the white teeth bordering the darkness of the open mouth, she was grateful the mascot wasn't any larger. Was Fruitastic trying to attract customers or scare them away?

"Hi..." Cora looked the mascot up and down again, as if expecting to see an employee nametag; there was none. "Angie?"

The fruit bobbed back and forth; it took Cora a second to realize the neck-less fruit was nodding.

"Thanks." Cora paused. How many times had she said that already? "Again."

As the orange rocked back and forth again, this time waving their stubby arms, Cora chuckled awkwardly before examining the damage around her.

Most of the liquid had been absorbed into her shirt—which was thankfully gray, not white—and there was only a small puddle of coffee following the frozen cylinder. Still, the ice had managed to travel quite the distance, leaving a three-yard-long snail trail for Cora to clean up. Not only that, nearly everyone in the food court was still staring at her.

"Great," Cora mumbled.

"I'm so sorry about him," someone said from behind her. "He doesn't watch where he's going."

Cora held back a grimace before forcing on a wide smile and spinning around. Behind her, an anxious adult clutched a young boy by his shoulders. So he was the one who collided into her and made her spill her drink and almost drown in coffee and embarrass herself and need to be rescued by a singing orange with stubby arms and unblinking eyes.

"It's okay!" Cora exclaimed with probably a little too much excitement. "Nothing beats an ice cold coffee shower! Or should I say...an ice Cool Beans shower!"

Judging by the lack of reaction she received, aside from a stiff chuckle from the parent, her product placement probably did more harm than good. It wasn't like Cora was getting paid for advertising anyway. In fact, she wasn't on the clock at all, and if she didn't start cleaning up her mess soon, she was going to be penalized for being late.

"Did you want another drink from there?" the parent asked. "That coffee place. I'll be happy to pay."

"No!" Cora said a little too quickly, but she couldn't have someone paying to replace a drink that she got for free. "Thank you, but it's totally fine. I'll be fine. It's all good."

While the boy looked hopeful, the parent raised their eyebrows. "Really?"

"Really, it's no problem." Cora tried to grin wider as she pointed to the mess behind her. "I'll just...get this really quick, and it's all good."

But when she turned around, the mess was gone—or at least some of it. Angie the oversized orange had a roll of paper towels in one hand with several torn sheets already scattered over part of the coffee trail. The mascot had just ripped off another patch of paper and waddled over to the next segment. When the fruit bent over to place it on the floor, Cora was mildly impressed that they didn't topple over from being so top heavy.

After a moment of staring, Cora jumped into action herself, rushing to pick up the frozen coffee and sticking it back in her cup. A part of her was tempted to rinse it off in private and continue her attempts to drink it. The rest of her knew that was a bit desperate, even for her.

When she turned to tackle the coffee trail, she was stopped by an orange roadblock waving their stubby arms in front of her, the loose end of the paper towel roll flapping in the wind. Cora blinked—she was still bewildered by the assistance from the giant citrus mascot—before reaching a hand towards the paper towel. The rotund fruit was faster than she expected, though, and they quickly snatched the roll back before continuing to wave their short arms again.

"Uh...I can help," Cora said, forcing a smile despite her confusion.

But when Cora tried to reach for the paper towels again, Angie refused to give in, then moved their stubby arms inwards as if they were trying to cross their arms in defiance. Of course, they were wildly unsuccessful, and the orange's arms only spanned a third of their body on either side.

They paused; Cora waited. When they tried again, their arms managed to get a few inches closer, but there was still over a foot between their hands. On their third attempt, they persisted, squeezing their arms closer with so much effort, it was like they were juicing themselves.

When they finally managed to get their hands close enough, they tapped the paper towel roll against their opposite wrist. After a moment, Cora finally understood: they were pointing to their nonexistent watch, and Cora was going to be late.

"Shoot!" She checked the clock on the food court wall—she had eight minutes to change and clock in—then turned back to Angie. "Uh..."

The mascot answered Cora's unspoken question by shooing her away, waving the roll of paper towels almost threateningly. Cora only tried to resist once more before giving in, muttering yet another thanks to the orange before rushing towards Cool Beans.

***

Cora never imagined she would be actively seeking out Angie the Orange, but that's exactly what she was doing, scanning the bustling food court in search of both a table and the elusive fruit during her lunch break. While she had managed to change and clock in right on time to start her shift, the mascot had disappeared by then, and Cora hadn't seen any sign of the oversized orange in the three hours that followed.

It wasn't like she needed to see the mascot. The worker had just saved her in more ways than one, and Cora wanted to thank them properly—preferably without the creepy costume. It was the least she could do for causing them so much trouble.

"See something you like, coffee cake?"

Cora nearly jumped at the sound of the familiar husky voice whispering from beside her. Thankfully, she didn't, and she even managed to wear a firm frown before turning—and looking downwards, she might add.

In exchange, Farron smirked up at her, looking just as she had the night at Cora's bus stop. This time, though, her fitted black tank top showed off more of her toned arms than her normal shirts did, and her white sneakers were much brighter than her black boots. It was as if she wasn't even trying to be subtle about her presence anymore.

Cora's eyes narrowed as she tried to gain a handle on the situation. If she had to guess, Farron was just about to start her shift late or she was just passing through. Regardless, it didn't seem like she was too bothered about the close-off, and Cora was a little annoyed that she ever felt guilty about it.

"Not anymore," Cora snapped. "Nice of you to show up to work, though. What, did you get sent back to training on how to close up?"

Unfortunately, Farron's smirk widened. "What? Did you miss me? Guess someone like you needs a little excitement in their life."

Cora nearly dropped her lunch in shock. "What? Who... What are you...saying about? Who?"

As Cora tried to interpret what her own words meant, Farron laughed.

"Looks like you need to go back to training too, for how to think on your feet." Then of course, she winked. "Unless you want to be swept off of them again."

If Cora wasn't speechless before, she was after that. She had no idea how to respond when she didn't know what Farron was talking about.

Amidst Cora's silence, Farron tutted as she slowly shook her head. "Today's just not your day, is it, coffee cake? Lucky for you, I'm off the clock, and I brought you a little gift from my travels."

Cora's confusion only increased when Farron held out a neon green Fruitastic T-shirt. In the middle, Angie the Orange was in mid-dance between the phrase "Be fantastic with Fruitastic" written in swirly rainbow cursive.

Instinctively, Cora grabbed it, thinking only about her coffee-stained shirt that she couldn't wash until she went home. And then she realized: why was Farron suddenly giving her anything but a hard time?

By the time Cora remembered to hide the confusion from her face, Farron was already chuckling again.

"Surprised? I'm a little offended, honestly. Who else at Fruitastic would be quick enough to catch you? Especially after a tackle like that."

Cora's wide eyes went from the shirt to Farron's infuriating smirk. There was no way she was insinuating what Cora thought she was. That was impossible.

But as Cora looked over Farron, even she saw the similarities. Farron's eyes were almost level with Cora's shoulders—just like Angie the Orange's had been. Angie had managed to hold Cora's weight with nothing more than a forearm; Farron's toned arms could easily accomplish that. The mascot had the core strength to touch the ground without falling over. If Cora had to guess, she was sure that Farron's abs...

Cora's eyes jumped up from Farron's hips. She preferred to look at Farron's smirk instead.

"You finally caught on, huh?" Farron chuckled again as she let go of the shirt, and Cora instinctively held on tighter so it wouldn't fall. "I hadn't been looking forward to wearing that thing, but I guess it was worth it. Sorry I couldn't stick around after our little dance, though. I had to tour the rest of the mall. Don't worry, you were the only damsel that I swept off her feet."

Only then did Cora manage to find her voice, and only to exclaim, "Damsel?"

Farron's smile widened. "Stay on two feet, coffee cake. Enjoy the shirt."

Before Cora could retaliate, Farron was gone, briskly maneuvering through the food court crowd. As she disappeared out of sight, Cora clenched the Fruitastic shirt in one hand and her cold container of pineapple pizza in the other.

Day five of the Coup D'é-Tea had been brutally lost.