So Kai got brutal.
He cracked the cinnamon stick with a closed fist. He ground the ginger root until it wept. He pulled a double shot from the machine's "Spite" setting—a hidden dial that Joss had shown him once, after a particularly bad review. The shot came out black as a crow’s heart. brutalmaster dirty chai
The first sip was always a violation. A brutal, delicious assault on every soft thing inside him. The chai didn’t warm you; it aggressively informed you of your own circulation. The espresso didn't wake you up; it audited your dreams and found them wanting . So Kai got brutal