@pyrrhiclegend
Lily is in the fast food restaurant again--of all the places here in the city, it feels the most comforting. There's something about the tile floor and the plastic booths and tables, the weak fluorescent lighting and the way the employees lift the blinds during the day so the dining area is flooded with sunlight.
(And Lily does like the sunlight.)
She's kicking her heels as she digs into her meal, the soles of her shoes clicking gently against the bar of her chair as she picks up glorious salty, greasy fry after fry, drags them through the chocolate ice cream cone in front of her, and then places them into her mouth. It's heavenly. She's certain that the only way Chaldea back home could be improved is by the installation of one of these fine dining institutions.
Still--there's something that's bothering her, a prickling behind her eyes, her hair raising on her arms, some strange disturbance that leaves Lily feeling ill and unready. She puts the fry she's holding in her mouth, and then lifts her eyes away from her meal, carefully scanning the restaurant for anything that may be causing her to feel as if someone's casting the evil eye on her.And, ah... there, perhaps, on the other side of the restaurant: a man, staring directly at her. She swallows her fry, feeling it like a lump as it travels down her throat, and shivers a little.
"M-may I help you?" she asks.