COME AT ME AND YOU'LL SEE I'M MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE --- YOU THINK THAT YOU'LL BREAK ME, YOU'RE GONNA FIND IN TIME --- |
Saffron groaned in annoyed exhaustion to herself. Having her motorcycle in the shop was actually the worst. Normally it would have been easy enough to have Mercury swing by Fairy Tail to magic up some repairs to the bike, but Mercury was so deep down the rabbit hole with the investigation into Maker that Saffron didn’t even bother asking the woman. Mercury certainly would have taken the time to help her, but Saffron simply did not want to pull her away from work that was much more important. And while the blonde knew enough about mechanics to fix most surface issues with her bike, this particular repair was beyond her expertise, meaning she’d had to drop the vehicle off at an actual shop.
And in the meantime, she was stuck with public transportation. Saffron both hated and loved people in equal parts. She was extremely outgoing and never afraid to strike up conversation with strangers, but she also recognized that people were fundamentally dumb and irritating. These days, it was also harder for her to blend in and be ignored in a crowd. Ever since she’d been signed on to be the new drummer for the increasingly popular band known as Delinquent Ward, she’d become a bit of a pseudo-celebrity, which made it more difficult for her to go places without being recognized by at least a few people. Not everyone who recognized her would approach – many were happy enough to respect her personal space. But there were always at least one or two that wanted to take their chance at an autograph or a picture.
Saffron made it a point to always oblige such requests and to be kind, but it was more complicated on a train. If she was just walking around in public doing some shopping or something, she could easily stop to snap a picture with someone who asked and then be on her way. But on a train? She was trapped in a space where there was nowhere to go, meaning that people would try to pass the time with small talk. If there was anything she hated more than public transportation, it was small talk. Small talk was grueling, cringy, and above all: boring, the most cardinal of all sins. Given how tired she currently was after having been in rehearsal with the band all morning, all she could do was hope and pray that her train ride home to Magnolia from Reinford would be completed in relative solitude.
Currently, she was dressed in a pair of snug black pants and an orange top, with a brown bomber jacket over it. She had a leather belt around her hips and a small leather pouch strapped around one of her thighs. Saffron was slouched a bit in her seat, one booted foot on the ground, and the other raised up and resting against a nearby vertical pole that was more meant for standing passengers to hold to keep their balance, though the train car she was in was only half full at the moment so no one was using it. One of the hands that peeked from the sleeves of her jacket was a normal hand with a fingerless tan glove. The other appeared to be mechanical in nature, a yellow and black robotic limb that moved as naturally as her original hand once had. She had an overabundance of thick blonde hair, and purple eyes that periodically glanced up from her phone to idly look around the car with relative disinterest.
Though there were a couple of guys in one corner that her eyes returned to more than once, narrowing slightly in suspicion. Something about them was off. The way they huddled with each other, not saying a word but also darting their gazes around like they were on high alert. It was fishy as fuck… but unless they gave her a reason to, she had no intention of confronting them. Though she would continue to keep an eye on them, just in case. Years of military training had honed her instincts if nothing else, and she had learned on more than one occasion to trust her gut, though for the sake of listening to the music in her earbuds in peace she hoped her instincts were wrong this time.
And in the meantime, she was stuck with public transportation. Saffron both hated and loved people in equal parts. She was extremely outgoing and never afraid to strike up conversation with strangers, but she also recognized that people were fundamentally dumb and irritating. These days, it was also harder for her to blend in and be ignored in a crowd. Ever since she’d been signed on to be the new drummer for the increasingly popular band known as Delinquent Ward, she’d become a bit of a pseudo-celebrity, which made it more difficult for her to go places without being recognized by at least a few people. Not everyone who recognized her would approach – many were happy enough to respect her personal space. But there were always at least one or two that wanted to take their chance at an autograph or a picture.
Saffron made it a point to always oblige such requests and to be kind, but it was more complicated on a train. If she was just walking around in public doing some shopping or something, she could easily stop to snap a picture with someone who asked and then be on her way. But on a train? She was trapped in a space where there was nowhere to go, meaning that people would try to pass the time with small talk. If there was anything she hated more than public transportation, it was small talk. Small talk was grueling, cringy, and above all: boring, the most cardinal of all sins. Given how tired she currently was after having been in rehearsal with the band all morning, all she could do was hope and pray that her train ride home to Magnolia from Reinford would be completed in relative solitude.
Currently, she was dressed in a pair of snug black pants and an orange top, with a brown bomber jacket over it. She had a leather belt around her hips and a small leather pouch strapped around one of her thighs. Saffron was slouched a bit in her seat, one booted foot on the ground, and the other raised up and resting against a nearby vertical pole that was more meant for standing passengers to hold to keep their balance, though the train car she was in was only half full at the moment so no one was using it. One of the hands that peeked from the sleeves of her jacket was a normal hand with a fingerless tan glove. The other appeared to be mechanical in nature, a yellow and black robotic limb that moved as naturally as her original hand once had. She had an overabundance of thick blonde hair, and purple eyes that periodically glanced up from her phone to idly look around the car with relative disinterest.
Though there were a couple of guys in one corner that her eyes returned to more than once, narrowing slightly in suspicion. Something about them was off. The way they huddled with each other, not saying a word but also darting their gazes around like they were on high alert. It was fishy as fuck… but unless they gave her a reason to, she had no intention of confronting them. Though she would continue to keep an eye on them, just in case. Years of military training had honed her instincts if nothing else, and she had learned on more than one occasion to trust her gut, though for the sake of listening to the music in her earbuds in peace she hoped her instincts were wrong this time.
deltra of gangnam style
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