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Following Sorano was pretty easy. Her brisk pace was nothing compared to her own menace of a hallway ass hustling. In fact, it was actually considerably slower. Though the speed at which she left the classroom was noteworthy. Usually, people stood around for a considerable amount of time, like some sort middle-class family that had just finished their meal at a restaurant. The jeep that Sorano took the two of them two was similar to her, in some respects. It was probably chosen for purely its utility. But it was pretty weird how there was one in Ayabukuro, considering how rare import cars were. It would have probably made sense to use a T*yota H*lux. Those things were even used in wars.

Of course, her ground rules were simple. Don't be turd was a pretty easy instruction to follow. Yayoi may have been a slob, but she wasn't a goober that disregarded all rules.

After a brief crumb dust-off outside, she entered the backseat of the jeep. She was instantly greeted by the hardhitting disrespect of the punk. In an effort of not getting booted from the car, she put on the seatbelt and lifted her hands up in surrender. It was as if she was saying "I have nothing to do with this man". Though, her face still looked as though she were a dead fish. Body language was hard when one's face constantly was the visual representation of white noise.