[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/Jo2Zf7y.png[/img][/center]
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🍱 [u][b][color=00aeef]Interactions[/color][/b][/u]
🍣 [i]None.[/i]

🍱 [u][b][color=00aeef]Location[/color][/b][/u]
🍣 [i]Shinagi Sushi.[/i]
🍣 [i]Light Lane.[/i]

🍱 [u][b][color=00aeef]Time[/color][/b][/u]
🍣 [i]Early Afternoon.[/i]
🍣 [i]Lunch.[/i]
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Newly sharpened, and recently added, Layne's knives were exchanged once every week, to maintain peerless perfection. Layne knew the man as Kyle Smith, quite the commodity on American soil. As routines dictated, he would hand the young chef a case of newly treated blades, each one eager to find itself used in the preparation of a hearty meal. Of course, it is worthy to note, that if this was a weekday, Layne would not have been present for the exchange, as school demanded his presence if he aimed to reach new heights in the art of culinary success. It was, after all, not a game. 

If one was to look over the counter, it was quite easy to tell that the young chef wore a pair of black, elastic gloves, his slender fingers moving in motion with each new technique performed upon the salmon, which extended its shape across a white cutting board. Indeed, a colored system of import was what he had been taught from a very early age. White for fish, green for vegetables, yellow for chicken, and of course, red for meat. Being a perfectionist, Layne would never dream of smudging the paint of this most functional system. "Did you hear about that octopus?" Came a voice, young and female. She was a regular, if there ever was one, and her tone was somewhat worried. Claire Spriggan, which one could admit carried with it an odd twang, was a sweet woman, indeed. Frequenting Shinagi Sushi was an easy choice, in consideration of her office location. Nearly neighbors.

[color=00aeef]"I was asked if I had served it to someone,"[/color] Layne offered with a quiet, androgynous voice. Was the music louder, his words would undoubtedly have been drowned out by a surrounding aura of sound. However, in response to the calm, soft, and by all intents harmonic tune of Japanese instruments, the Shinagi chef was clearly heard and noted. Of course, only a fool would consider the statement one of serious intent, and Claire managed to laugh at the young man's choice of words. Even so, Layne continued, [color=00aeef]"mom would have killed me."[/color] Revealing a small, endearing grin upon his features, Layne let a stream of cold water wash his knife clean, before resting its sharp edge against the cutting board, and rowed a box with the appropriate sushi ordered by Miss. Claire Spriggan. She tended towards salmon rolls, and would often enjoy a few tofu options on the side, for variation. Following a reflexive motion of removing his gloves, Layne closed the meal-box with a lid and added yet another, with warm miso soup slowly swaying from one end to the other, within its carefully sealed container. Like any prepared chef, the young man placed the boxes on a bag which he proceeded to slide up across its contents.

Those who had eaten at Shinagi Sushi as a past experience could calculate following events. Layne raised the bag and soon felt a weight upon his shoulder. It was a Lemur making itself known within this most endearing scene. Wrapping its small fingers around the plastic, this primate leaped onto the counter, where it continued to hand Claire her meal. "Aw, thank you, Bonbon!" The woman exclaimed, graciously accepting her food, before offering Bonbon a loving scratch behind the ears. "How did you teach him this!?" 

[color=00aeef]"Bonbon was owned by a circus,"[/color] Layne explained, with a hint of melancholy spotted within his choice of words. Indeed, the lemur was kept, illegally, by a circus. Treatment of his wellbeing could be summoned up by harsh critique. However, it was difficult to claim that the process had not, in any way, taught Bonbon how to conduct himself in an impressive manner, for that, he did. [color=00aeef]"Teaching him stuff isn't really that hard."[/color]

"Oh no, I hear those places are horrible to animals," Claire added, her eyes widening in response to Layne's statement. It was, generally speaking, quite true. However, in Bonbon's case, he had been freed from the shackles of what circus performances entailed. It was a conversation which managed to carry on for another brief series of sentences before obligation eventually swung into the exchange. More customers graced the restaurant, and Claire herself had duties she was to attend. "Say hello to your dad, Layne!" Claire finished, offering the chef a pleasant wave before making herself scarce. Just another customer whose face was well known, and whose presence could be considered every other day. Such was the business, indeed. 

"Hello!" An unfamiliar voice would proceed to add variation to the customer base, pushing along the row of hungry patrons, each one willing to try this oriental delicacy known throughout the world. It was as Ken, Layne's father, so often said. [i]'Sushi draws people together'[/i], followed by a hearty laugh, which tended towards a playful slap to his son's shoulder. A humble life, without question, but one Layne would not trade for the world. 

[color=00aeef]"Welcome,"[/color] a soft response trickled its way past the chef's lips, as Layne prepared another set of black, latex gloves.