Tears for Fears

Order & Pick Up

A shaggy black-haired man walks into a dimly lit cafe off the side of the street, it's a couple blocks down from U.A. and marks the end of his patrolling route. Despite the cafe looking closed, there's an obvious open sign in the doorway and an inviting feel surrounding the place that beckons the man inside.

The smell of freshly ground coffee beans floods his nose as he pushes the door open with a slight grimace, surprised as the bell jingles softly. He wasn't expecting it to be open at this time of night, no matter the sign. Briefly, he chances a glance at his watch, the usual time his patrol ends being around three, but right now its four...so definitely too late for a normal cafe to be up and running. Humming thoughtfully, he makes sure the door closes behind him.

Making his way into the store, the fluorescent lights are cool against his back, dim and anti-eye straining as he taps at the cool marble texture of the counter. Staring up at the seemingly floating sign that reads 'Order & Pick Up' with a little arrow pointing to where he's standing, a feeling of gentle fondness and warmth spreads over his shoulders.

The cafe is doused in a soft warm feeling of content, the comfortable temperature blanketing the entirety of the building. Shouta feels himself bury further into his capture gear, the stressors of his night job seeping from his entire body.

He feels like jello despite the nagging in the back of his mind, the constant reminder that he's made enemies in his line of work-- it's bad for him to be relaxing in such an open and unguarded place. That at least some of his body should be facing the door in order to assess any possible threats before they were presented.

But he can't, and the voice at the back of his mind shouts at him-- this could be the effect of a quirk, a roundabout way to get him to put his guard down so that someone could get the jump on him. But he knows it's not, if it was a quirk his eyes would be dry and flaky. Right now they seem pretty moist. No one being in the small shop just helps the stress melt away faster.

His thoughts of alarm die down, gently washed out by the faint calming music playing in the background. It soothes the beginnings of a headache like a boat riding on calm waves after the unforgiving storm. He hadn't even noticed he closed his eyes before a squeaky, slightly nervous voice pipes up from underneath him. 

"Good evening... would you like to try our special?" the shaggy-haired man peels his eyes back open at the sound of the voice, the answer is in his head but it doesn't reach his mouth as his eyes land on a black bean bag and what looks to be a heavy throw blanket with a calico cat pattern neatly folded on top of it. Begrudgingly, he glares at it. How dare it sit there looking so comfortable, threatening him with a good time. He hears the clearing of a throat before he pulls his gaze away from the criminally comfy place and zeroes in on the small thing in front of him.

Not a thing, a person with forest green hair and a million freckles dotting their face, a light blush accompanying them. His eyes were a mossy green and his lips were pulled into a thin line as he assessed the pro-hero in front of him. Aizawa quickly glanced back over to the bean bag, wishing to be anywhere, specifically over there, than here before landing back on the small one in front of him.

"The bean bags are open, I can save you that one if you want?" The boy asks, an easy smile slipping onto his face as he points his finger over to the place Shouta was formerly staring at. "S-sorry.." He stutters out-- his easy customer service smile slipping into a more shy and awkward one as he brings his hand up to hide it.

"I just- I saw you eyeing it- and! they're pretty comfortable, speaking from experience...and I wash them every day, including the blankets so it's not like their dirty or anything.." He whispers the last part, clamping a hand over his mouth before he can continue with his mindless mumbling, the effect of his awkwardness making him jittery.