[color=A9A9A9][h2]Northern District[/h2][/color][indent] “Some Tamiko kid,” came the blonde’s response, swirling her spoon around the base of her drink. She pulled it out, more of that vanilla-melon froth clinging to it, before licking it off. Her cheeks tightened briefly, then settled back into self-indulgent contentment. “Went missing yesterday. On the way home.” She tilted her head to the side, scrutinizing Mochizuki. “You’re from Hinata, aren’tcha? Just here for the A/C?” [/indent] [color=A9A9A9][h2]Southern District[/h2][/color][indent] Crew Cut’s face colored, blooming like a ripened tomato. It was a bad day for a fight, hot enough that even hot tempers were turned to mush, but a flash in the pan was still possible, and as Otoya’s words spilled out of his mouth, the thug growled with the ferocity of a pitbull. “You’re fucking dead!” Swinging his free hand back (and almost smacking his buddy in the face), he put all his strength into a wild haymaker that went right for the pretty boy’s jaw. [/indent] [color=A9A9A9][h2]Eastern District[/h2][/color][indent] The city kid looked back at Iwao, and then smirked. With the relish of someone who certainly had more money than this sandy-haired twit, he called out, “42-” “4200!” A pudgy-faced housewife raised up her hand, a bit of briny water speckling out from her wet palms. An elderly gentleman in a three-piece tweed suit pulled out his megaphone. Static crackled as his voice resounded. “4300!” Not to be outdone, a freshman from Hijirido, one of the ones lucky enough to score one of those proper co-ed sharehouses, raised up his hand, clutching a fistful of bills. “4[i]5[/i]00!” And just like that, the auction was off to a frenzy, half the people not even totally certain what was being auctioned anyways. In the center of the maelstrom, Captain Belo smiled apologetically at Iwao, before thrusting out his glistening chest, filling his lungs with air, and letting out the practiced chant of an expert auctioneer. There were rumors, after all, of the good captain having been an expert in black market auctioneering, dealing in ‘misplaced’ antiques and ‘naturally killed’ exotic species. “Hellohellofiveeelsfor45004500doIhave46004600?Ohtothegentlemantotheright47004700anythinghigheranyonewannatherewegotothewomaninthatbeautifuldressthankyouverymuchnowwheredowegofiveglisteningeelsperfectforvirilityskincareandbarebequefiveeelstherewego4800totheladywiththesunhat-” As he called out, he scribbled something down on his notepad, ripping off the sheet, folding it, and slipping into Iwao’s hands. [quote]Red Snapper 1200¥/lb[/quote] [/indent] [color=A9A9A9][h2]Central District[/h2][/color][indent] “Yeah, I’m coming.” Properly dressed and freshened up, Hiroyuki strode over, in slacks, a collared shirt, and a cardigan. Hot weather was no excuse to dress like a slob, after all. Adjusting his Seiko, he sat down, eyes flickering briefly towards the sheen upon the floor, the smeared yolk that glistened in the afternoon sun. The corner of his lips twitched. “Didn’t I tell you to deal with that? What will the others think, if they had to clean up a mess left by a freeloader?” He shook his head with a sigh and began to eat, one hand flicking through his social media feed, hardly looking at Sayuri. A child could make a dish as simple as this, and yet the rice was still dry and stiff, as if too little water was used. Disappointing, but expected. “Where’s the others anyhow?” [/indent]