Usually, Gangnam has nothing to offer in the way of Miyavi’s interests before around eight at night; and today would have been no different if he hadn’t been so inattentive as to not notice he’d smoked his last cigarette last night as he’d entered his home on the Han. He’d even finished it in a rush as well, in such a hurry that he’d not even given himself any time to enjoy it.
Only when he had reached for his pack earlier this morning had he felt the familiar lightness of the container and realized that he had indeed smoked his last cigarette the night before. With a sigh, he’d rolled himself out of bed and checked the drawer of his bedside table, where he’d previously stored a couple packs of Caster’s just in case he ever ran out.
Unfortunately, he’d found himself unlucky here as well; and after a bit of breakfast and a preliminary drink to relax himself, at least enough to be able to tolerate any sort of human, Miyavi decides that he’s going to have to get some more today.
About an hour of preparation for the night had resulted in what he’s wearing now, a simple black vest over a mesh shirt and a pair of black leather pants. He’d completed his outfit with his favorite pair of white toed dress shoes, hoping to add a bit of a classy flair. Though, he knows he can make just about anything work at least a little bit.
Though he might not care about much else in this world, fashion is something Miyavi enjoys being on top of. He’s fond of how he looks, and only the right clothes can make him look the way he thinks he should be seen. Keeping his wardrobe up to date is the only way to assure that he always comes off as sleek as he feels.
The late afternoon air is dry, much too dry for Miyavi’s liking, and chilly as he makes his way into downtown Gangnam. Recently, he’d been told of a new smoke shop opening in the area, which is something he might even be a little thankful for. Normally, Miyavi would just stock up on cigarettes at the convenience store near his home; but recently even that place had gone under and finding someone else who sells Caster’s is proving to be a lot more tedious than he’d originally planned. He hopes this new place will have his brand, because he’s not too keen on giving up the slight vanilla taste that makes a cigarette all the more interesting.
When a familiar set of Japanese characters come into view just down the road, Miyavi quickens his pace. The characters seem to match the name of the shop he’d heard about; though, when he actually reads them aloud to himself, he finds that the one who had originally recommended the store to him had brutally butchered its pronunciation.
After a few more steps, he pushes the door to the shop open, catching the tail end of the ring of the little bell above the door frame. Immediately, the sweet smell of tobacco makes its way to his nose and he knows he’s found the right place.
He doesn’t see the shopkeeper right away; but as his eyes drift around the shop, he finally lays his eyes on him. He looks unique to say the least and Miyavi can’t help but take a few steps toward the counter to get a better look at him.
"Yeah. You carry Caster? Can’t find anyone who carries the damn things around here." His heels click across the floor as he steps closer, finally coming to a stop just in front of the counter. "More specifically, Caster Menthol." He leans down and partially props himself up on the counter as he waits for a response. "Tch. Checked nearly every damn place in the city I swear."
