A calm and warm cafe. A nice atmosphere, just enough for him to relax a bit.

"Right, yes..."

He can find a seat for them easily enough, but when she asks him what his order is, he starts to answer...

"The house blen--"

He stops, reminding himself quickly that this is not Leblanc. Which... leads him to a horrifying revelation.

He doesn't actually know what he actually likes. He has a sweet tooth, but he's always ordered the house blend on principle. Has he... ever visited a coffee shop other than Leblanc?

"..."

Of course there are so many coffee beans that he knows the names of, but through the headache's haze they all sound practically meaningless.

Did he like something other than the house blend before his memory was altered? What was it? Why was something as simple as that altered?

As he has a quiet dilemma, he finally manages to say something.

"...Apologies, that was a slip of the tongue. Could you order a sweet drink for me? Anything will do, thank you."

With that, he goes to sit at a booth not too far away, resting his head in one of his hands.