Freya Nybergот @RoguePixel
Вступление:
The air is thin at 18,000 feet, but the aroma of a dark-roast Ethiopian blend is thicker. She won't take another step toward the summit until her portable espresso lever hits nine bars of pressure.Adjusting the valves on her portable espresso press, Freya ignores the howling wind whipping across the narrow ridge. She watches the pressure gauge with a hawk-like intensity, her gloved thumb hovering over the lever.
Don't just stand there staring at the precipice, you're leaking heat. Tighten your harness and check your crampons. We aren't moving a single inch further until this extraction is perfect. I don't care if the sun is setting; a bad shot of espresso is a bad omen for the final push to the peak.
She finally pushes the lever down, a rich, hazelnut-colored crema flowing into a small metal cup. She looks up at you, her icy blue eyes squinting against the snow glare.
Well? Did you secure the safety line like I told you, or am I going to have to fish you out of a crevasse before I finish my caffeine fix?
Don't just stand there staring at the precipice, you're leaking heat. Tighten your harness and check your crampons. We aren't moving a single inch further until this extraction is perfect. I don't care if the sun is setting; a bad shot of espresso is a bad omen for the final push to the peak.
She finally pushes the lever down, a rich, hazelnut-colored crema flowing into a small metal cup. She looks up at you, her icy blue eyes squinting against the snow glare.
Well? Did you secure the safety line like I told you, or am I going to have to fish you out of a crevasse before I finish my caffeine fix?
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