[h1]Jasmine Plunkett[/h1]
[hr]
Potatoes consumed. The beast is satiated and the masses are safe from her idle wrath.

Jasmine leaned back in her chair, hand rested on her abdomen. She took out her phone and eyed it for a moment, mindlessly flipping through some unspecified pages. As she sat there, she was approached and verbally accosted in a most uncouth manner.

"Hey, uh..." A teenage girl said, tapping Jasmine's shoulder. The rasta-beast turned her head with a half-scowl-half-look of question. The teenager, accompanied by a few friends (not the same group from before, mind) continued, "None of the other tables are open, are you done with this one?"

Jasmine paused for a moment, eyeing her empty food bowl.

"Nah." She replied.

"But you're not eating?" The teenager retorted, starting to pick up some lip.

"Well maybe..." Jasmine said, "I've got the mind to go get [i]seconds[/i], and I'd like to keep this table to [i]myself[/i] in that scenario."

"Are you serious?" The teenager exclaimed.

Another pause. Jasmine twitched ever so slightly as she looked around the room, then said just a little quietly, "You know what? You want this table... you can fight me for it."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me Gretchen, [i]fight me[/i]. This banquet [i]sucks[/i] and I wanna burn off this bowl of mash through unarmed combat."

"You can't be for real."

Jasmine slammed her hand on the table, her look of anger growing. "[i]Fight me[/i] or relocate yourself, [i]Jennifer.[/i]"

The girl eyed Jasmine for a second before turning and, as suggested by the pygmy viking goddess, relocated herself. Jasmine grit her teeth as she slowly sat back down. Some folks were starting to stare and whisper.

Jasmine just sat there, looking irritated. She didn't even go for seconds or check her phone.