The fact that Hades would only let himself look at Hythlodaeus properly after he was clothed speaks volumes, and Hythlodaeus counts that as a victory, if not quite enough to make up for the lake trick. But there's plenty of time left in the day.

The cafe is, indeed, not far, and easy to miss--because it doesn't quite look like one. Instead it looks like an antique shop, and the atmosphere inside is rather fitting, furniture of dark wood, a little stairs leading up to a loft space overlooking the ground floor, some bookshelves and glass cabinets along the walls. Here and there are objets d'art, some clearly magical: from a clock seemingly carved out of some manner of jet-black crystal to a collection of small floating spheres, tiny aurora of different colours dancing within them, to a scene of several wooden humanoid statuettes seated around a table as though in discussion that... have an unsettlingly 'alive' feeling to them. They look as though they could move at any moment, and maybe they are, at a snail pace. Every time you look at them again you get the feeling they've shifted.

Hythlodaeus acknowledges the barista cheerfully, a tired but content-looking redheaded man, and it's maybe no surprise to Hades to see his friend chat with the barista as though they've known each other for years. Hythlodaeus did always make friends easily, after all.

After the brief conversation they're led to sit down at a corner table, next to a half-curtained window. This spot's point of interest seem to be the small collection of books on the windowsill along with an assortment of seemingly random items: a square glass box filled with sand, some manner of hair decoration woven of flowers, a quill, several silver spoons, an antique pincushion. It's anyone's guess what they're for.

Hythlodaeus sits down and pulls one of the menus they were handed towards him, but before opening it he gives Hades a curious look.

"What do you think? A rather interesting place, isn't it?"