Today's special {OPEN}

[Kazuya Harada]

"You're a fat little digimon." Kazuya's eyes were watching the Puttimon he had hatched. It sat there, waddling on the spot as it filled its face with little pellets. Kazuya had a half eaten burger sitting in front of him but had no driving urge to finish it, instead just picked at his fries. When what he said registered with the digimon he had named 'Zabimaru' it looked back at him, its big black eyes looked back at him with as much intensity as Mr. Harada himself carried.

"FEED ME HOOMAN!" as soon as it had commanded its 'master' it went back to filling its face. "Where does the food even go!? You're just a head." replied the 'master' as he started poking his Puttimon in the face.

The sun was unbearable today. When the fries held no more interest Kazuya started to lean back in his seat, head falling backwards so he had the sun in his sights. "I hate you sun." nimble fingers reached into the chest pocket of the shirt he was wearing and slid a cigarette out of the barely concealed box. A lighter came from the a tight jeans pocket and before long he was exhaling smoke. Zabimaru did not look amused. "First of all, I'm not your son and you might hate me, but I love my hooman. Second, smoking will kill you."

Kazuya's head slowly dropped back into position so he could narrow his vision on the little Puttimon. He knew what he was doing. "You're a troll digimon, aren't you?"

[San Anes]

What in the digi-hell did she do to deserve an afternoon shift? Anyone who knew her, knew she worked better at night and would rather catch a few more ‘z’s than serve people coffee. Seriously, San rarely roused herself out of bed before noon and her boss knew that, and yet he still called her in. The pudgy man had tried to justify the reasoning, but the single reason that stuck the hardest was either work now or find a new job. San had to pay bills. And well, feed herself, and Botamon of course. So, she didn’t have much of a choice, but that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it.

The small coffee shop was, well, small to say the least, but busy due to its popularity. It sat at a nice location just across the street from an equally popular American fast food joint that San could care less about. And right now, it was lunch hour and people were swamping the streets by the dozens. It felt annoyingly crowded, which was not helping her mood. And the bunch of men she was currently trying to wait on were not doing any kind of miracles of making her less grouchy either.

“Hey, you’re pretty hot.” That was the first very blatant response that spilled out of their mouths and it then just escalated from there to catcalls, whistles and requests for her to show more skin. It hadn’t stopped for a good few minutes now.

Anyone else would have probably taken great offense to the obscene things coming from these young men’s mouths, but San just stood tall and still, her dark eyes lined in blue staring at them with an air of boredom. She kept her pad of paper out, pen poised, ready for the idiots to stop their jabbering and virgin giggles to give her their orders. And she was content on doing just that until her shift ended—hey, easy pay right? Tune out the morons.

Well, content enough, until one of them decided to reach out and pinch her thigh.

tagging Kazuya at 349 words
I left it open ended to give you an opportunity to do something. xD But if you don't, I have a plan B. ;D -invades!-

[Love Alaric Chandler]

[atrb=width, 350, true][atrb=height, 340, true][atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=cellpadding, 0, true][atrb=cellspacing, 0, true][atrb=style, background: #eeeeee; padding: 10px;] Dashing through the city in his rolling chair holding a cigarette within his mouth, screams could be heard, cars would honk, and women would scream telling their children to get out of the way. Professor Love had been traveling through the streets of Tokyo through his rolling chair that was almost costing the lives of many drivers. Rolling past a Cafe as he would quickly stop the brakes right then and there, Love would scoot in slowly holding his cigarette within the right palm of his hand as he would sit right in front of the door way. A groan would come from his mouth escaping it as he would blow smoke from the portion of his mouth, "Ehh..Coffee...." The one thing he was in search of for the time being, Coffee. Looking slowly toward one of the female workers being harassed. Love had slowly begun to roll his chair toward her way and said, "Miss...may I get cup of coff-," he was soon bumped into as his cigarette would slowly fall from the right palm of his hand...slowly...it would fall. The cigarette would stay in the position of its destination where it had continually rolled its way toward Love's right leg, ". . ." He would stare at the boy who had knocked his cigarette down and with a simple blink he gave a smile. Five minutes after, CRASH! A fist would be delivered to the young man's face as he would be sent flying through the glass window smashing into a car. Standing up from his rolling chair wearing a lab coat and fixating his glasses upon the brink of nose, Love Alaric Chandler had entered the scene, "Which one of you motherfuckers want's next," it would seem this calm and non-sensual man had become an unraveling nervous wreck who was about to pummel anyone he saw as a man before him, "You!" Dramatically pointing at the other rude male who was harassing the waitress he would make his on top of he table and said, "GET OUT!" The boy would quickly jump up dashing out of he window and running dragging his friend by his right leg unconscious and making his way toward down the street. Now jumping off the table and making his way back toward the rolling chair he was in, he would sit down backwards, picked his cigarette, and would place it back in his mouth saying, "Miss, can I have that coffee now?" he said smiling so endeavor like. Notes: He's....pretty insane. Theme Song: Thread Theme: Palette. Clothing/Apparel: Dress Shirt. Skinny Jeans. Dress Shoes.

[/justify][/font][/size][/div][/td][/tr][/table][/div][newclass=.textbox]width: 350px; height: 340px; background: #f6f6f6; font-size: 12px; font-family: open sans condensed, open sans condensed, meiryo ui; color: black; line-height: 1.5em; text-align: justify; overflow-y: auto; padding: 5px; position: relative; z-index: 2; margin-top: -350px; opacity: 0; -moz-opacity: 0; -khtml-opacity: 0; transition: .5s all ease-in-out; -moz-transition: .5s all ease-in-out; -o-transition: .5s all ease-in-out; -webkit-transition: .5s all ease-in-out;[/newclass][newclass=.textbox:hover]opacity: .85; -moz-opacity: .85; -khtml-opacity: .85;[/newclass][newclass=.bigtable ::-webkit-scrollbar]height: 12px; width: 5px; background: transparent;[/newclass][newclass=.bigtable ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #797979; border-radius: 5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px;[/newclass][newclass=.bigtable ::-webkit-scrollbar-corner]background: transparent;[/newclass][/center]

[Kazuya Harada]

Going out to eat a burger was usually a pretty routine thing, but these days a man couldn't treat his fat little troll digimon to some digi-pellets without some mischief and drama happening. So there they were sitting, Kaz enjoying a cigarette and Zabimaru filling his face with his body-weight in food when without warning someone was hurled through a window mere feet from where they sitting, showering the two in shards of glass.

Any kind of injury appeared to avoided at the very least, the young Harada looked to the window to see some jacked up coffee junkie screaming at someone else to leave, whom promptly ran out and carried his friend with him. Zabimaru looked like he was about to cry as he realized his food bowl was now as filled with glass as it was pellets and he didn't have the fingers to pluck away the glass.

"Hey! Dipstick! Did you see what you just did!?" as it would happen, Kazuya Harada did not appreciate a mid day shower of glass being projected onto himself and his digimon partner. Rising from his seat the digi-destined pulled his cigarette from his mouth before dropping it to the ground, a heel grinding it underfoot to make sure it was out before he proceeded to step into the building proper.

[San Anes]

Her brows met and her expression twisted in a slow rise of disgust as she felt that hand reach for her thigh. San usually tried very hard to keep herself calm and composed only because she didn’t want to drag any unwanted attention to herself. But when an idiot of the male gender crossed a line like that, how can you blame her for not wanting to shove the heel of her black boot into his ugly face?

Fortunately, she never got the chance. Her fingers only managed a small twitch against the pad of paper in her hands before a solid figure crossed the gap between herself and the men she was trying to serve. A head of blond hair invaded her vision, momentarily confusing her while she tried to process the very obvious desk chair the man was rolling around in, leaving the rude men completely forgotten. He was saying something to her, but it was all drowned out in the chaos that erupted next.

There was a slow pause in the air, the tension grew dangerously and then snapped as the hand that was previously reaching for her thigh instead knocked the cigarette out of the chair-rolling-blond man’s lips. It dropped to the ground in a dramatic sea-saw bounce leaving an awkward silence in its wake. San clutched at the pad and pen in her hands, dark eyes darting from face to face. “Uh—“

San could have sworn she heard the atmosphere crack. Almost immediately after the pause begun to settle, yelling had begun and bodies were being thrown. The techie squawked and backpedaled to evade the sudden burst of anger, watching as chairs and tables broke under the attack. “Hey!” She started, trying to gain some attention from the very obvious one sided fight, her attention now all drilling onto that chair-rolling-blond (now angry) man. But to no avail. Apparently her shouts fell on deaf ears.

So, what could she do? Instead of shouting herself hoarse and getting all worked up, she opted to just sigh and drop her shoulders, waiting for those that were shouted at to flee and for the whole thing to settle. Which it did moments later. The man, just as quickly as he left it, returned to the chair he arrived in, sat, and smiled at her as if nothing just happened.

San glared pointedly at the man with a small air of disbelief, not at all intimidated by what she just saw. “Really?” She grumbled, sarcasm dripping. “What are you, the Hulk?”

But it wasn’t over. Oh no. Because now there was more yelling coming from the other side of the coffee shop. Shouting ‘hey dipstick!’ was not a tactical way to keep people calm. Especially the supposedly insane one still seated in front of her. Dropping her forehead into her right palm, pinching at the bridge of her nose, San sighed again. “I’m so fired.”

tagging Kazuya & Love at 487 words
Fight, fight, fight~! xD -hollers and woots!- And Love is now called the Hulk as far as San is concerned. <3

[Love Alaric Chandler]

[atrb=width, 350, true][atrb=height, 340, true][atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=cellpadding, 0, true][atrb=cellspacing, 0, true][atrb=style, background: #eeeeee; padding: 10px;] Turning to face some random red headed young man who called him a "Dipstick," Love would turn to face the man as he would begin to direct his attention on himself the next. Looking under his armpits, legs, chair, and inside his shirt finally his lab coat pockets right after finding a pen. Love would direct his attention right back on the red headed young male and would hold up a pen in his face, "I am not sure if I am worthy of being dipped in a sauce with the body of a stick, but I think this pen will cover it!" Shaking the pen back and forth as he would do so clicking down upon it, Love surely would show the fact he wasn't a bright man. Spinning in his rolling desk chair the next he would begin to laugh absurdly stopping with his right foot being the brake, "Sorry if some glass got on you, but I surely didn't mean to get any of it in your little digimon's plate young one." Right after the fact he said digimon noticing it upon the table that the red headed young man and his partner resided within in Love would soon soar by on his rolling chair passing the boy and would stop to stare at the digimon for a moment. Staring at the digimon measuring its head, shape, and form along with size. Love would come to a conclusion the next, "Oh? Did you just obtain this digimon? It would seem as though it is within its fresh form." Giving a small click at the tongue as he would place another lit cigarette within his mouth throwing the old one within a trash can nearby, he would blow a breath of smoke within the digimon's face right after, "This Digimon...is pathetically weak." Love would hold a serious face saying that right after, but then turning around with a bright sunny neko smile toward the woman (San) he would wave at the young girl shouting, "So how about that coffee there, nya~?!" Inhaling a breath of smoke from the cigar the next, he would scoot over toward the red headed young male as he would ponder about him the minute he would lay eyes upon his. "I got it." Yup, he finally figured it out to what the boy truly was with just one stare. Love would analyze the boy up and down the next as he would shout to the top of his lungs, "You're a street performer?!" It was obvious that Love didn't expect the young man to ACTUALLY be a street performer, but he did suspect that he was The One. Just as his intellect thought, the boy had seemed to be of a Digi-Destined stature, but with his lack of heart, passion, and determination including bond with the digimon he had...he was a long way before even reaching the true power of a Digi-Destined. Notes: N/A. Theme Song: Thread Theme: Palette. Clothing/Apparel: Dress Shirt. Skinny Jeans. Dress Shoes.

[/justify][/font][/size][/div][/td][/tr][/table][/div][newclass=.textbox]width: 350px; height: 340px; background: #f6f6f6; font-size: 12px; font-family: open sans condensed, open sans condensed, meiryo ui; color: black; line-height: 1.5em; text-align: justify; overflow-y: auto; padding: 5px; position: relative; z-index: 2; margin-top: -350px; opacity: 0; -moz-opacity: 0; -khtml-opacity: 0; transition: .5s all ease-in-out; -moz-transition: .5s all ease-in-out; -o-transition: .5s all ease-in-out; -webkit-transition: .5s all ease-in-out;[/newclass][newclass=.textbox:hover]opacity: .85; -moz-opacity: .85; -khtml-opacity: .85;[/newclass][newclass=.bigtable ::-webkit-scrollbar]height: 12px; width: 5px; background: transparent;[/newclass][newclass=.bigtable ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #797979; border-radius: 5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px;[/newclass][newclass=.bigtable ::-webkit-scrollbar-corner]background: transparent;[/newclass][/center]

[Kazuya Harada]

It just seemed to be everything that the desk driver in skinny jeans said was devised to wind up Kazuya. The red haired digidestined almost couldn't believe it. Who the hell was this guy!? He was a twit or a tool clearly! After taking his sweet, precious time to study Zabimaru and insult him he came back up to Kazuya and came to the wild conclusion that he was a street performer of all things!?

Just as the person before him had started this whole mess by knocking someone through the window with a punch, now it was Kazuya's turn. He was an temperamental young man at the best of times and this one was asking for it. Without warning a fist flew towards the solar plexus of the cigar smoking, coffee wanting prat that had insulted his Zabimaru. Kazuya wasn't the best at handling things in a diplomatic manner, but what he was good at was punching people. Came with the turf of being a bare-knuckle boxer. It was mainly his bread and butter, but it had a certain practicality in his day to day life.

The little digimon didn't seem overtly content to stay at the table he had been perched on either. It took a moment to buff itself up before bouncing off the table. If it got away from the glass all the better. Last thing it needed was to cut itself. That would never do. "Got your back Kaz!" it was hard to sound threatening when you were a tiny white angel thing, but he tried and that's what was important.

[San Anes]

The situation was beginning to spiral from bad to worse. The longer she stood idle, the more things seemed to get out of hand. Even if being insulted to the face didn’t seem to bother the Hulk— as she is now dubbing the chair-rolling-blond—the man didn’t do anything to make an effort to keep the shouting red head calm. Instead, he was making her day more complicated by rolling over and blatantly pointing out the red head’s accompanying digimon, and not nicely either. The blond didn’t appear to be intentionally insulting the red head, but damn, the words were not of good choice. Speaking of digimons, why there was one sitting out in the open for any Pandora agent to see was beyond her. Unless he was well, working with Pandora.

By now, her supervisor had come on scene, though he didn’t do much of anything to help but cross his arms at the far corner of the shop, giving her a pointed stare as if saying “you handle this or you are fired.” Shit. She really did hate people.

Bristling, and failing to contain herself, San glared hard at the Hulk and then stormed off momentarily to get the asked cup of coffee. She didn’t even bother asking if he wanted it black. Cream? Sugar? She didn’t care. And by the time she had returned with whatever she happened to stick a mug under and fill the cup with, San was now confronted with a new chain events.

The red head threw physical violence into the scene—again—by throwing punches, and the digimon seemed to be thrilled with the idea. Her supervisor was still watching her with an air of disapproval, and San just wanted to run out the door. Screw it, she almost decided, she could find another job. However, instead, she slammed the coffee mug on a nearby table, the hot contents within sloshing dangerously over the rim.

“Enough!” She shouted, breaking her streak of the ‘silent cool type.’ “If you two want to fight, take it out of this shop!” She hissed, narrowing her eyes at both of the immature fools.

tagging Kazuya & Love at 357 words
Sorry for the wait! :)