“Lemme get uhhhhhhhh…”
She didn’t usually come to WcDenji’s for breakfast. Their eggs were rubber, their sausage was candy-sweet, and their hashbrowns popped like eyeballs full of grease the moment you bit down on them. The apple pies could be good, if you were lucky and didn’t get one that was either cold as a corpse, or hot as the surface of the fucking sun. Pancakes, maybe, but they were X’d out on the menu, and sometimes the syrup had holes in the sealing, and you’d end up pouring liquid mold and gnats onto your breakfast.
Fuck it, early lunch. “WcChicken, extra pickles, a small fry, and a goke.”
Her eyes skimmed the menu one more time, passing briefly over and then fixing onto the uncomfortably square patty of the WcFish.
Shit, Izuna.
“G’ah fuck,” she muttered. She knew she’d forgotten something. The plan had been to text her when she got close, have at least someone familiar to get through orientation with. Judging from the weather, there was a good chance her friend was a fishcicle by now. Late and unannounced. She’d need an olive branch.
Do not get her a WcFish. Do not get her a WcFish. It’s not even funny. Do not get her a WcFish.
“And a WcFish…”
Do not get her only a WcFish.
“An egg WcWidget, some cinnamon twists, and a berry WcSwishy. Put that in a second bag with the WcFish.”
She paid and stood off to the side, waiting for Murasame. “So you wanna stick around Sapporo when you’re done, or go back home?” she asked, when he’d join her. “Like, graduated I mean. Said your grandpa and sis went here, right? Anyone I’d’ve heard of?”
She didn’t usually come to WcDenji’s for breakfast. Their eggs were rubber, their sausage was candy-sweet, and their hashbrowns popped like eyeballs full of grease the moment you bit down on them. The apple pies could be good, if you were lucky and didn’t get one that was either cold as a corpse, or hot as the surface of the fucking sun. Pancakes, maybe, but they were X’d out on the menu, and sometimes the syrup had holes in the sealing, and you’d end up pouring liquid mold and gnats onto your breakfast.
Fuck it, early lunch. “WcChicken, extra pickles, a small fry, and a goke.”
Her eyes skimmed the menu one more time, passing briefly over and then fixing onto the uncomfortably square patty of the WcFish.
Shit, Izuna.
“G’ah fuck,” she muttered. She knew she’d forgotten something. The plan had been to text her when she got close, have at least someone familiar to get through orientation with. Judging from the weather, there was a good chance her friend was a fishcicle by now. Late and unannounced. She’d need an olive branch.
Do not get her a WcFish. Do not get her a WcFish. It’s not even funny. Do not get her a WcFish.
“And a WcFish…”
Do not get her only a WcFish.
“An egg WcWidget, some cinnamon twists, and a berry WcSwishy. Put that in a second bag with the WcFish.”
She paid and stood off to the side, waiting for Murasame. “So you wanna stick around Sapporo when you’re done, or go back home?” she asked, when he’d join her. “Like, graduated I mean. Said your grandpa and sis went here, right? Anyone I’d’ve heard of?”