Lima "Yoko" Bacardi. Her name was uttered across her camp from the time she was ten to the present time not for her smarts but rather for her temper. Instead of her mouth doing the talking, she lets her fists do it for her. Her parents tried teaching her that violence never solved anything, but for Lima... The only way she could keep the bullies away from her and her friends was to fight and fight hard.
Today was a good day or, at least, that's what she thought. She walked into the cafe wearing a grey oversized sweatshirt and black skin tight t-shirt underneath. She also wore her signature booty shorts and flip flops. So... She wasn't the most fashion drawn. She was mostly asleep and just wanted a coffee. She noted that the cafe was semi-busy, but no line. Most people were chatting at the nearby tables. She leaned on top the counter next to a peculiar girl who was intensely staring at two people at a table with flower peddles falling everywhere.
Lima turned her head back to the barista feeling a bit creeped out.
"Large vanilla cap, two shots with extra cream," she ordered. She might as well have sat down. The machine made some awful noises that made Lima's skin crawl. Any bad machine noise, coming from a machinist's perspective, was almost like nails on a chalkboard.
"Hey," she said in a grumpy tone.
"There's a clog in the dispenser tube... You need to get rid of it before you wreak the coffee maker." The barista looked at her dumbfounded. She sighed.
"Want me to take a look?" she asked. The barista nodded and Lima jumped the counter. Who cared about public politeness. She took off her sweater and placed it onto the counter, then got to work inspecting the machine.
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