thursday business (open)

Flara had been getting bored with the South District lately so she’d taken the metro to the West District this morning. She was well aware of the fact that she was wasting her soon-to-be nonexistent money but it’s not like she was saving any cash the South District either. In those streets, she couldn’t walk five steps without some homeless dude asking for her spare change. For god’s sake, she didn’t even have spare change!

Flara wandered the streets for a few hours aimlessly and at twelve in the afternoon, her stomach began to growl. Ugh, when was the last time she had had a meal? Two, three days ago? In the distance, the girl saw a bakery. Nope, she couldn’t go to that place. It was unlikely for those baked goods to be thrifty and Flara really needed things to be cheap considering her financial problems. However, her hunger took control of her legs and marched her over there.

Flara was astonished by the menu. It was, as a matter of fact, thrifty. A dollar twenty-five for a slice of pie? Forget when she’d last eaten; when was the most recent time she’d had pie? Seven years, maybe? Well, now it would be today.

Flara walked up to the cashier, passing a few other customers on the way. “I’d like to order two slices of the seasonal fruit pie and a steamed meat bun, please,” she told the man behind the counter.

Yes, peach pie! That had been her favorite pie as a child since she’d never had a watermelon pie (was there even such a thing?) before. Then again, any pie would have sufficed −except for a pineapple one− because Flara hadn’t had pie in so long.

“Yes, for here,” Flara replied to the cashier’s question promptly. As the man got the baked goods Flara had selected, she scanned the activity of the store. There was a girl who had been staring at the display cases since before Flara had walked in. She had goggles and looked like she was ready for winter. How peculiar. There were also a few other people quietly eating their pastries, but nothing much.

When Flara was handed her pie and meat bun, she thanked the worker and took a seat near the window. She ate her meat bun quickly so that she could move on to the pie. It was common etiquette to eat the meal before the dessert, right?

The meat bun was already delicious but the peach pie tasted way better. The flavor exploded in Flara’s mouth. The fruity goodness of the peaches tasted fresh and tangy. The crust was light and crispy and it melted in her mouth, leaving a buttery aftertaste. Flara sure knew where she was coming back to for dinner.

Flara listened as the next customer ordered a load of stuff and turned around to look at her. That girl was probably rich considering she could afford that much; from the North District, maybe? The two girls locked eyes for a moment before Flara turned her head back to her meal, ponytail whipping around as well. People from the North District always seemed to annoy Flara, probably because of her bad past there. What Flara had just done was rather rude, but hey, that girl did have a very delayed ‘please’ when she ordered.

Flara proceeded to eat her peach pie in silence. Great, now her good attitude and her appetite was gone for now. She heaved a sigh after finishing the last bite of peach pie. At least she probably won’t be here later... I hope, Flara thought to herself. She abruptly stood up and began to make her way out of the store.

She better not talk to me…

Finding himself wandering to the West District again, Kier suddenly felt the urge to treat himself to something nice. There was a bakery he heard about on the metro, although the girls refused to give him the address. After about half an hour of aimless loitering, he found the said bakery.

Pushing open the door, he almost smacked it into a customer moving to exit. "Sorry!" His voice echoed loudly, breaking the peaceful atmosphere. "Oh man that smells great. What'd you buy?" he asked, enthusiasm radiating from him as if he were still a ten-year-old brat. The girl smelled like peaches, actually that was probably the whole store he was smelling.

"Wait. Here" Grabbing her wrists, he pulled her behind the hooded figure chatting with the cashier. "Tell me what you got! Okay? Please?" Kier was all smiles by that time, pretending not notice the hushed conversations around the store. His orange to blue eyes were probably a dead giveaway of what he was. It didn't bother him too much since his ears couldn't pick up half of what everyone was saying.

Flara was almost smacked in her freaking face as a red-violet haired man swung it open. After hearing his bad excuse for an apology, she opened her mouth to yell the hell out of him. Before she had the chance to utter a single word, the man started to pester her for what she ordered. Jesus crist, he was annoying.

The idiotic person grabbed Flara’s wrists and continued to plead for her to tell him what she got. FUUUU- Despite this guy acting like a 10-year-old, he was strong enough that Flara was unable to yank her hands away.

“Can you stop acting like a stupid little kid?!” Flara hissed in a rather loud manner. She would’ve shouted but they were in the bakery and she didn’t want to be grouped with the idiot in front of her. This guy was practically barfing rainbows like there was no tomorrow. If Flara could face palm right now, she probably would have.

Flara drew in a big breath and rolled her eyes to the ceiling, exasperated. Then she brought her gaze back to the red-violet haired man that still held her wrists. “Fine! I got a meat bun and peach pie, okay?! Now can you f*cking let go of me?!”

He smiled as soon as the girl told him what he wanted to know. Dropping his grip he gave her an honest, "Thanks! And I really am sorry," before going up to the register. All eyes were on him now, even the hooded customer about to leave. He noticed her dark shades and her hurry to get leave as she rounded him. Ohh, another Harbinger? Interesting.

"Hey, didn't mean to disturb your business," he greeted the cashier followed by a small laugh. "Well if anything, I'd like two slices of your peach pie please. I'm sure it'll taste as great as it smells." Meeting the cashier's eyes, it was clear that he too was a Harbinger. The West District had all kinds of interesting people.

Behind him, the small bell chimed and a familiar voice addressed him. “Kier, you have way too much time on your hands.” Looking over his shoulder, he saw the blue-haired woman he had met not too long ago. He laughed at her remark. "I should get a job then, huh?" He was joking of course, since his income came steadily from other sources. Grinning, he asked her, "You here for the peach pie too?"

The guy finally let go of Flara wrists. He then gave her a thank-you and an apology (again). He seemed sincere enough… The hot-tempered girl decided to let him off the hook without even a kick to the crotch. This time. And hopefully, there wouldn’t be a next time.

Flara flexed her wrists to get the feeling back into her wrists. God, that dude had an iron grip. She wasn’t bruised or anything but it had been more than enough to numb her hands. Sighing again, Flara continued to walk out like she had originally intended to.

Hearing the blue-haired lady’s− who had just come in− remark that she’d tossed at that cheerful guy, Apparently, Kier was his name. Flara raised her eyebrows. “You know this guy? Wooow, lucky you,” she muttered sarcastically as her amber eyes flicked to the lady’s powder-blue ones. With that, Flara exited the bakery hoping that Kier wouldn’t still be there at noon.

His trip out to the west district had been more uncomfortable than relaxing than he thought. The drastic change in setting compared to the south made Trevor feel more like a fish out of water than ever. He'd even pulled up his hood in an attempt to make himself just a little less inconspicuous. The brown building barely caught his eyesight but the smell stopped him for a look. A bakery huh? He really couldn't remember what little he had eaten today. He fingered the pathetically small amount of crumpled bank notes in his pocket, bread was cheap right?
He visibly flinched at the loud chime when he opened the door. He mentally noted 4 people were already here. Good, the less people the better. Trevor moved away from the crowd as much as he could and looked towards the menu. He didn't bother even looking at the luxuries of pie or cake; searching for the cheapest thing he could buy and then get out.

Akuji moved out of the doorway for the girl in black and the brown-haired one.

“You know this guy? Wooow, lucky you,” the pony-tailed female mumbled, walking out the door. Rude much, Akuji thought, but then again she wasn't the one to talk.

"Well, I guess there's still a million people who dislike harbingers," she murmured to herself as she turned to Kier, who had just finished placing his order.

"I should get a job then, huh? You here for the peach pie too?" He beamed.

"No, I'm not" She walked up to the counter, "I'd like a slice of buttercream cake." Akuji peered into one of the display cases and saw butterfly cookies. A sad smile appeared on her face, "and a dozen butterfly cookies too."

She never really did like their butterfly cookies as much as their buttercream cake, but for some reason, Keaira was practically addicted to them. Whenever they had the money she would always find a reason to make Akuji go and buy some. Maybe it was out of habit that she ordered them or maybe she was hoping that if she bought some Keaira would magically appear again.

Like that would happen.

"No, I'm not. I'd like a slice of butter cream cake and a dozen butterfly cookies too."

It was that smile again, the one she got when she was thinking about her sister. "You don't really look like a cookie person. Is it for, you know?" he asked, handing two fifty to the cashier. Kier thanked him for the peach pie before taking a seat.

The door swung open slowly, almost as if the person wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to enter. In shuffled another hooded figure, looking just as uncomfortable as the first. While he waited for Akuji to join him, he dug into the first pie slice.

Each bite felt like he died and went to heaven with angels and trumpets and everything. He never knew any fruit to taste better than mangoes, but this peach pie took the cake. Well, almost. He had to ask the cashier about mango pastries later.

He was mutely surprised that the prices here were so cheap, almost enough to make him question if the bakery was possibly doing anything shifty behind closed doors. Probably not. The other shoppers were loud and his stare hardened for a moment at the mention of harbingers and hoped maybe his bangs were long enough to shield his own eye color.

Trevor waited until the apparent store owner had finished ringing up the blue haired girl’s order before approaching himself ;“Can I just have some sourdough bread?” avoiding eye contact, his voice above mumbling level but he couldn’t hide the awkwardness in his voice. He was never good talking. Or people.