[h2][color=fff79a]Iwao - Eastern District[/color][/h2]

His skin welcomed the frosty reprieve from the constant marauding of the midday sun. Leaking out of the top of the bag and permeating the air around it in a thin film of pleasant cool, that ice was inviting. Almost made him want to shove his hand in and cool off until it went numb... But that'd be a waste. There were better alternatives. In this summer heat, any extra bit of melting his blood would do just make life hard, plus he'd risk mangling or contaminating the fish. Not worth it. The captain's gorgeous knifework would be ruined, and Iwao knew he wouldn't be able to salvage it in any presentable way.

You know, for whatever value he still worried of presentability. 

[color=fff79a]"Uh,"[/color] the pugilist mumbled, eyes turned upward as if searching for the answer in the cloudless day. [color=fff79a]"Should be Aya, I think."[/color]

He honestly only knew when he usually went out. If he'd missed some sort of rotation system getting established between the others, that...

[color=fff79a][i]Should be fine, right? Not like we can get in eachother's way.[/i][/color]

...Didn't matter unless there was a real shortage on fridge space, and if there was, they could sort it out fast. Call it a wash. Better than being all washed up, at least. Or being awash in what used to be the ice insulating your fresh nutrition from the indomitable furnace above.

[color=fff79a]"Thanks for the fish, Captain. I'd better get 'em home."[/color] He nodded at the omnidisciplinarian myth before him, punctuating the somewhat awkward gesture with a wave of the free hand before turning on his heel. [color=fff79a]"Take care."[/color]