»— Weird. The blue-card challenge was definitely weird but Kyle wasn’t one to say no to a good game, so he took his bulky wallet (thank you, Casino!) and decides to give his all for the final round of this challenge. He had enough to pay off his debts but first….
The clinic wasn’t a new place for him to visit he had doubts about how well this one would go. If anything, he’ll just be diagnosed as a lunatic for even hinting that the Kappa was real… he hoped not. As he entered Choral Clinic, Kyle looked around for an employee that didn’t seem to be busy. Can’t afford to bother someone who was saving lives just so he can win a challenge.
“Uhh, excuse me, Miss?“ He calls the attention of a woman with long, pig-tailed pink hair, “I need something that will make me more appealing for my darling future-husband, the Kappa himself. Do you have anything like that for me?”
»— The clinic was more of a home to Dolce rather than a place for work. It was odd to have to do such simple tasks and be paid for it... work has never been an issue for her growing up. Her parents were fairly wealthy and they had servants to do the most trivial of things. Yet now, as she leaves one of the patient’s rooms after delivering their medicine, Dolce feels a strange feeling of accomplishment. It was a simple task yet it somehow felt fulfilling.
It was time for her break, and like always, she results to finding a spot in the lobby for her to peacefully knit. She could do so elsewhere, but no one bothered here in the lobby as everyone had their family or friend to attend to instead of a stranger like her. Pico was nowhere near her, so far, things have been quiet. That was, until a man called for her attention. She looks up with barely a hint of emotion, an eyebrow raised. His words were as strange as he was, although the notion of being married to a fellow male was interesting. He was that kind of person...?
“This is a clinic, not a gift shop.“ She says simply, putting both her hands down as she stops her knitting. Then, it occurred her. She had something that was technically worth some sort of value. Her gaze falls on the half-finished scarf. She had two others that were finished and were just idly sitting inside her bag. She was going to run out of yarn soon, but perhaps she can sell her scarves and buy some more?
“If you wish, I can sell you this.” She shows him the unfinished scarf, wondering if he was interested. It wasn’t much... and it was incredibly tacky. And pink. “I have ones that are made, of course. I’ll fetch them for you if you’re willing to buy them.”
