Iggy stood in front of the create-your-own hot chocolate bar, cup in hand, shaking his head in disbelief as it overflowed and hot liquid spilt onto his hand. He had added all the essential toppings (whip cream, sprinkles, chocolate chips, caramel drizzle) and then decided at the last minute to pour more hot chocolate into his cup on top of all the toppings so he could ensure that his cup was indeed full. Of course, this hadn’t worked out the best for him and now he was sucking air in between his teeth at the pain he felt in his hand from the hot liquid. “Motherfucker” He groaned, turning around frantically, still holding the cup, liquid sloshing over the sides as he looked for somewhere to set it down or napkins to wipe up the drink that was quickly soaking into the sleeve of his coat. “’Scuse me miss.” He called out to the person who was in the closest vicinity to him, “you’re standing right in front of the garbage and as much as it pains me to throw out my masterpiece I’m not seeing a whole lot of fucking options.”