Reginald Hargreeves's funeral was certainly, strange.

It ended with a pointless squabble in the rain with Diego telling the family how they should 'at least be honest about the kind of man he was.'
Who, in his perspective, was a monster.
Luther disagreed with Diego's views and threw a punch, or eighteen, at him.
Sparking a fight between the two, being immature and easily making the situation worse.
Ben's bronze statue was knocked over during the fight, laying in several sad pieces on the damp ground.

How pathetic.

Five thought, searching through the wooden cabinets of the kitchen they were in just an hour ago.
Except there were only three people occupying the room, including Five, that is.

"Where's Vanya?" Allison asked, placing her thick coat on a chair.
"Oh, she's gone." Klaus filled in, legs crossed, feet on the table and guitar in hand.
Leaning back comfortably in his chair at the head of the table.

"That's unfortunate." Five commented, picking up something.

"Yeah."

"An entire square block. Forty-two bedrooms, 19 bathrooms, but no, not a single drop of coffee." Five continued, slamming an empty coffee container onto the oak table.

"Dad hated caffeine." Alison stated.

"Well, he hated children too and he had plenty of us." Klaus laughed out in his drunken state, wiggling his toes and gazing at them.

"I'm taking the car." Five finally said, breaking the seconds of silence they had and shoving his hands into the pockets of that same old blazer that he wore 43 years ago.

"Where are you going?" Klaus asked, uncrossing his legs.

Five gave him a cold look.
"To get a decent cup of coffee."

"Do you even know how to drive?"

Five turned to Allison and gave her the same glare he gave his loving brother.
He scoffed, eyes narrowing.
"I know how to do everything."

"Well come back soon, we have something to discuss."

Klaus stood up and waved his hands around where five space jumped, talking as he turned around clumsily on the spot.
"I feel like, we should try and stop him. But then again, I also kinda just want to see what happens."

A car engine outside shuddered to life, the wheels crunching against the gravel as it drove away. Carrying a 58 year old teenager that was craving coffee.

---

The brakes screeched as it came to a stop in front of Griddy's Donuts.
Door slamming shut as Five walked out of the car, and into the empty shop.

The boy sat himself on a stool at the unattended counter and ringed the silver bell, twice, before sighing.
Cold air blasted Five in the back as the door opened, revealing a middle aged man wearing a plain cap, checked flannel and an old looking puffy vest that was falling apart at the seam.

He sat himself right next to Five, exhaling deeply and returning the casual sideways glance that five was giving him.
Dishes clattered in the background, and a woman - possibly in her fifties - with fraying grey-blond hair and a pink uniform came into view.

She chuckled as she apologised for the wait, stating that the sink was clogged. She pulled a pencil out of her breast pocket and smiled at the other man.
"So, what'll it be?"

"Uhh, give me a chocolate éclair." The man replied.

"Mmm hmm. Sure." She said, scribbling down the order in a small notebook with lined paper.
"Can I get the kid a glass of milk or something?" She waved her pen at Five, gesturing to him.

He scoffed quietly and gave put on an innocent face.
"The kid wants coffee. Black."

The waitress chuckled lightly.
"Cute kid."
Five gave her a wide, charming smile.

She looked between the two, her smile fading at the tension between the three of them.
"Okay." The woman said quietly as she shoved her notes into her pocket and left to the corner to retrieve the orders.

Five sighed, turning to the man beside him. He looked around, nostalgia hitting him.
"Don't remember this place being such a shithole. I used to come here as a kid." The man gave him a confused look.
"Used to come out here with my brothers and sisters, and eat donuts till we puked. Simpler times, huh?" Five added.

"Er, I suppose." He said, not entirely sure about why he was talking as if he were an old man. The waitress came back, cleared her throat and smiled, placing the coffee in front of the teen. She gave him a confused look as he took a sip of the hot coffee, the smell wafting through the cool air.

"I got his." The other said, passing the woman seven dollars. She took it and gave the man his éclair. Five looked at him and smiled slightly.
"Thanks." He looked down at the logo on the puffy jacket, placing his coffee down.

"You must know your way around the city." The Truckee turned slightly to face Five.
"I hope so. I've been driving it for 20 years." The boy nodded, his words cutting through the air.

"Good. I need an address."

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