Waiting in line for a passport. Forever.

It had to be Velvet City. It couldn't have been the very top of Mt. Hakobe, or perhaps the bottom of the Clover Ravine that he had to traverse to find this mysterious place the Coin was leading him. Such dangerous places surely wouldn't warrant favor, so what could possibly drive him to wish for those extremes? A line. A line he'd graciously, patiently, ever so quietly waited in for two and a half hours to that moment. Even as a gentleman, Aven had limits to the amount of waiting he would endure, and to be frank, three hours would push that limit to the breaking point.

[1/5]

Four hours. He could swear that the attendants approving passports were purposefully elongating the process to artificially restrict the immigration of the neighboring country's populace. Maybe it was upon some self-imposed missions for the betterment of Fiore, or something equally ridiculous. Regardless, they were taking it too far; he still couldn't make out the face of the people manning the desks, let alone hope for escape any time soon. Not only that, but an incredible amount of people were attempting to cut in line, at times providing a very solid temptation to break out his magic and show them what for.

[2/5]

Five hours. After four and a half, Aven had zone out completely. At that point, he was nearly sleeping while standing up, only sheer force of will and decency keeping him from walking straight to the front of the line and demanding that he be helped. Was it really worth the effort to research these dark guilds? He could easily go back to Fairy Tail and completely ignore their existence until he was strong enough to beat one. At the present moment, he was hardly strong enough to call himself a wizard at all, let alone take on a Dark Magical guild. They say that curiosity killed the cat, but what happens when the cat has Lava magic? Aven was decently sure Curiosity would take the loss.

[3/5]

Six hours. Forget Dark guilds, there couldn't possibly be a force more evil than bureaucracy, and their need for trivial pursuits such as the devil's line he was currently wasting away precious moments of his lifespan in. The mysterious man he'd talked to about the coin mentioned something about a promise of eternal life that followed the users of the Coin, a prospect that was sounding quite appealing to Aven at the moment. If nothing else, it would be at least a small justification for the enormous waste of lifespan and energy he was engaged in with that passport. Hell, he was itching for someone to cut him in line so he could bury their face in the marble below him. Ugh... he sounded more like a dark wizard by the second.

[4/5]

Seven hours. It was said in many magical texts that the number Seven held great power, in both rituals and in practical magic. Aven couldn't express how true the assertion was, for like the gates of heaven opening to a wayward soul, the front of the line was his. Nothing standing in his way, no crying children, no antsy couples, no belligerent old folk, NOTHING. He was free: free to travel, free to study abroad, free to do whatever his heart desired, all of which culminated in never waiting in a line for customs again in the wonderful expanse of his life which, in that moment, had stretched out before him-
"Can I help you, sir?" A droll, empty voice echoed from the desk in front of him. Ah, yes... he needed to get the passport first. Summoning all the tact he had left, he managed to keep his teeth from gritting when speaking to the lifeless husk of a person before him.
"Yes, you may. Aven Alveron, member of Fairy Tail, I'd like a passport, if you would be so kind."

[5/5. End Job.]