[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/No63pEQ.png[/img][/center]
[code]Regal Square, Prince Ed-Field[/code]
[center][sub][@Mr Allen J][/sub][/center][hr]
Jackson had done his best not to bump into [i]everyone[/i] that was between him and food, but based on the glaring glances he received, it would appear he failed. Just about everyone who had come into contact with him found his unapologetic self to be, for a lack of a better word, distasteful. In what seemed like a peaceful, jovial rally, Jackson’s ill-mannered voyage to food left a bad taste in the ten people he had forced to drop what they were eating due to his frame bumping into them.

And just as Jackson had shrugged off the glaring eyes undoubtedly trying to make him feel bad, he would have reached for that yummy cake that had his name written all over it, but someone so rudely addressed him by a word that Jackson would never - and that means [i]never[/i] - with anyone, especially those of the homosexual kind. Still, it had been said, and Jackson had no choice but to look at who exactly called him such a word.

When he did, low and behold, his eyes caught the sight of someone that, quite frankly, looked every bit of a nightclub douchebag. From the hair all the way down to how he dressed. Jackson wasn’t one for making assumptions - at least not in a severe kind of way - but already he didn’t have the best first impression of the man standing behind him(in front of him?). If that wasn’t bad enough, he seemed to have just enough of a fire under his ass that Jackson had often seen when he looked in a mirror. Even a dimwit like JD could tell that things were only going to get worse before they got better.

“[color=crimson]Maybe take a chill pill. The food isn’t going anywhere, Pablo Escobar.[/color]” Jackson shrugged off the Drug Dealer-wannabe off and reached out his hand for that cake. Once he secured it, he gave the man next to him one last glance. “[color=crimson]Now his royal highness may have his fill.[/color]” Jackson proceeded to walk away.