It was almost impossible to see over her grocery bag, no matter how many times she shuffled it around her arms. The baguette and leek stalks (the leeks were Asuka's idea but still-) weren't enough, Lili had to go and ask for some fashion magazines thicker than her fingers on one hand lined up altogether. She must look like a bumbling idiot trying to find the hotel.
The hotel, where was it again? She knew her way around back home obviously, but the terracotta roofs, ratio of cobblestone to paved roads to dirt ones, and hanging signs full of European charm were not home. None of this could pass for Osaka, and it was dark, and she was tired, and now she was making excuses. Her hip bumped the side of a building and something flat dug against her. That's right, she'd taken the map! Lili couldn't be trusted to get herself in and out of a hole in the dirt without someone to show her every step of the way. Asuka had almost gotten slapped for that one, but it was the truth.
She took a glance around; no one was out. There wasn't even a dog to bark or birds to flap with a 'woosh' in the dark. She set the grocery bag at her feet; her body shook out the evening chill. A row of dim lamps dotted the sidewalks and that would have to do for light. As she unfolded the map something rustled over it, something heavier. The sound had texture, like a cloth jacket fluttering behind someone running. She froze. Her spine locked, each vertebrae bracing and anticipating. Another sound scuffed against a hard surface. She folded the map, threw it in the bag, and leaned her back against the building beside her. Then there was silence. Her eyes darted; she kept her feet spaced apart.
She couldn't see any shapes, and that meant she wouldn't fucking move, not even if an earthquake carved the ground to pieces. She wouldn't fucking move, until she felt certain the cold sweat beading her face proved to be stupid. Lili's foolish grin and haughty laugh shimmered and echoed through her mind like a broken record. Now the toll of her curiosity would rear its head.
'That box, that damn box. How popular can one thing be?'