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((Posting for Suu because gaia currently hates her |D))

"Look, I'm saying I don't care what kind of bread, okay?!"

"And I'm saying I can't just pick at random for you! It's policy! Just tell me what bread!"

"This is so stupid! Bread! Just... bread! Do it already!" A gesture encompassing the full length of both arms accompanied the angry exclamation. It had taken a great deal of resolution - and a healthy dose of irritation - for him to walk into the deli with no idea how to answer their questions. And now the stupid chef or waitress or cashier or whatever the heck she was was giving him a hard time and damn it all he just wanted some lunch.

The poor woman behind the counter pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Italian, wheat, white, rye, pumpernickel, sourdough... Please just pick one."

"Anything!" He didn't even know what half those were. Well, maybe more like three-quarters. Or all of them. Gone were the days of wandering into the kitchen, asking for a sandwich, and receiving an Arceus-be-damned sandwich.

((Another Suu post :U))

The sensation of a hand on his shoulder caused a complete redirection of Luke's attention, and he turned suddenly to face the offender. "What the hell, what gives?" he demanded with obvious irritation. Oh great, now she was going to give him the same crap as the woman at the counter. Was everyone in Kodo this antagonistic? Maybe that Rosie girl had just set his expectations too high.

"Look, I don't know, okay?! And I don't care! I just want a damn sandwich!"

He opened his mouth to argue back but promptly shut his mouth again in pure embarrassment when she guessed right on the mark, his resulting expression suggesting as much. In an attempt at a quick recovery, he crossed his arms with a huff.

She had been hoping for some form of validation from the boy and, upon receiving none, decided to say screw it and do whatever. "Fine, Italian," she agreed, exasperated, as she selected the named bread and prepared it to receive content. "You're not allowed to sue us if you die of allergies or something. Now what do you want on this?"

Ugh, this was just going to be a battle right up to the end, wasn't it? He turned to the woman at the counter with a glare. "Look, I honestly don't care, okay? Stuff that goes on a sandwich. It doesn't matter. I'm hungry."

The woman halfheartedly began grabbing things at random and stuffing them onto the bread, leaving no opportunity for Luke to object or change his mind.

They were judging him, weren't they? Especially that stupid black-haired chick behind him. What was her problem, anyway? With another indignant huff, Luke brushed at his shoulder to displace whatever foulness might have settled there as a result of the earlier contact. Whatever, let them judge away. It wasn't his fault the server was making things difficult. Why didn't they just list instructions for ordering next to the register or something? He fiddled with the poketch at his wrist while he waited for the woman to finish.

Meanwhile, another employee, on noticing the growing line, came forward to take Claire's order, though not before sparing an apologetic glance at his coworker.

It certainly didn't go unnoticed when she bumped into him, and Luke had half a mind to snap at her right then and there, let the damned woman know just who the hell she was messing with, but then the server was asking some other nonsensical question - something about toasting or pressing or... who knew - so he let it go in interest of getting his food into his hands so he could eat it and move on with his life. Arceus.

"I can pay with this, right?" he said when the server prompted him, pulling a card from his pocket and extending it to her.

"Sure, yeah, whatever." The woman was still frustrated and was considering demanding a raise as she took the card, swiped it, printed the receipt, and returned the two items to Luke alongside his food. "Have a nice day or something." Forget a raise; she wanted a promotion.

Food in hand, finally, Luke turned to find a seat. Ugh, it was really packed... Seriously though, there was one seat left in the entire place (discounting the awkward couples taking up entire booths or the surly construction worker that he swore up and down he could smell from where he was) and that was next to that obnoxious woman. Ugh. It was either that or sit outside, though, and he wasn't about to get his pants dirty.

Claire would soon find her solitude interrupted by a redheaded boy seating himself sideways in the chair with a huff, his head deliberately turned away from her. He wasn't about to say anything unless he had to, though, so he simply began to unwrap the sandwich in silence.

"If I don't know, it's because I didn't pay attention, genius," he replied with a sneer, tearing the paper a bit in his forcible attempts to flatten it on the table. He moved aside the top layer of bread - what did they say it was? he really needed to pay closer attention to things - and inspected the contents. "Not black olives, that's for sure," he said with a grimace, momentarily forgetting his spite as he moved on to the more important task of removing every trace of black olive from his food. Eugh.

...Wait. Anger. Indignation. It was probably her fault there were black olives on his sandwich anyway. "What's your problem anyway? You got something against me, or do you just really hate sandwiches?" Arceus only knew why someone would buy a sandwich for lunch if they hated sandwiches, but this chick was making about as much sense thus far.

"Hell if I know," he replied with a scoff, taking the sandwich into his hands on finishing his thorough survey of its contents. "Seems you like pissing people off enough. Maybe it's how you warm to be absolutely delightful to everyone you meet." His brow was furrowed in a distinct frown, expression erring more and more on the side of disgust. Seriously, who talked to people like that? Stupid woman...

Her second accusation hit a more bitter note, though, as Luke had what he believed to be a legitimate reason for it. His grip tightened on the sandwich and he leveled an angry glare at his undesired company. "Well excuse me for not asking what kind of bread they use with my lunch! I don't even eat sandwiches that often! Jeez..." Mini-rant complete, he took a rather vicious bite from his lunch. Ugh, black olives. Even if he'd taken them all out, he knew they had once been there and could taste it among all the other flavors. Damn it all.

He didn't bother to finish chewing before he responded. Not like she was the pinnacle of politeness anyway, so why did he have to mind his own manners? "Hmph. Like I said, hell if I know. Sounds reasonable enough to me, seeing that you get your kicks from pissing people off to begin with..." Damn it, why didn't he get a drink? Whatever.

"I don't mean her," he said with a scowl. "I mean at home." Ugh, as if the olives weren't bad enough, there was a word that left a distinctly awful taste in his mouth. He snorted at her guess, lifting his chin indignantly. "So what if I don't? Is that a problem?"