[center][h2][color=maroon]Aaron Fletcher[/color][/h2][/center]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/krky97Z.png[/img][/center]
	As he was pounced on by the apparently thirsty Emma, the color rose in Aaron's face once again.  [color=maroon]"Oh, it's no big deal really.  It's just a drink."[/color]  He replied humbly.  As the offer was made to head to the movies and later game with her and Thomas took his leave, the American readily agreed.  [color=maroon]"I'd love you."[/color]  It took him a moment to realize how his brain and mouth had not been on the same page there, at which point his expression blanked entirely.
	
	One social suicide later, Aaron was in full-on panic mode for a solid few seconds.  [color=maroon]"I-I mean, I'd love to see a movie with you!  Yeah, the movies, yes!  And then Deep Ground, yeah, I'd bet there's plenty of XP to claim![/color]  He calmed down with a nervous laugh and the fleeting hope that no one had just heard his accidental confession instead of agreeing to see a movie.

	They say there's a phrase for someone that's about to die.  Someone that's fully aware of his imminent demise.  Yet, that person can do nothing to stop it.  Aaron Fletcher, the American transplanted into Japan, defender of the Black City, and the literal head of an entire club at Purple Crown Academy, was a dead man walking.

	[@KoL][@Lord of Evil][hr][color=tan][h2][center]Jiro Katsurou[/center][/h2][/color]
[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/iqNYUzq.png[/img][/center]
	Jiro, who had been scrolling through the social lives of many people on his phone, perked up as he got a message from a Shiro Kawabata.  As far as he knew, he had no idea who this was, but he knew his Avatar's name...

	After a long moment of consideration, he nodded to himself and tucked his phone back into his pocket.  He looked over his shoulder and shouted into what was apparently the back room of the fast food joint in the Academy's food court.  [color=tan]"Yo!  Jack!  Can you cover the register for a little bit!  I have to run a quick errand!"[/color]  Not even waiting for a proper response, the Japan native hopped the counter and started snaking his way to the arcade, looking for bright orange hair within the crowd.  Given where they were in the world, it wasn't a hard color to miss.

	A short walk past a few old machines from the 1980's and the dance pads that were being brutally murdered, the blue-haired boy came up behind who he assumed was the sender of the message.  The eye patch certainly fit the bill, so this must've been the guy.  [color=tan]"I'm not late, am I?"[/color]  He crossed his arms and shifted his weight to his left leg, looking over the gang in front of him.

	[@Jedly]