* TOWERS
taekwoo wouldn't really call his second occupation hard--it consisted of paltry things like cleaning and stocking, simple enough for a simpleton like him to do right--but he wouldn't call it interesting either. rarely were there many to talk to other than the willing student or coworker, all too thinly spread on a campus that sometimes felt too big.
the quiet stretches of time that stood between classes were probably his least favourite; for even when without an acquaintance in sight, at least he could watch people (the highschoolers were his favourite--they rarely knew what they were doing with their gifts, making things hilarious more times than not). but now? he only had his own thoughts to wander through.
thoughts of what to do for dinner are what he decides to focus on (would there be dinner? was there someway he could mooch free food from someone, anyone--), grunting as his shoulders roll back, adjusting the box in his grip. it's some sort of squawk that yanks him out of his musings, replaced with the lagging yet striking realisation that he must have hit someone.
"... you... you okay, buddy?"