There’s irritation in his amber eyes as he glances down, down, down to one of the only few that he can do so. Blonde pig-tails and a orange kimono that’s much too colorful for how disgusting she was: it’s irritation and discomfort that crawls down his spine just from the sight of her. Fuck, he can already imagine the type of shit that’s already on the tip of her tongue -- spit-fire ready to smother him in a cloak of anger.
“What? Is there something you want? Spit it out then fuckin’ beat it.”










