Straightening his tie between pinched fingers, Yoshito examined himself in the mirror, scrutinizing his work before tugging at it in frustration. Figuring that it was fine, he dropped his hands from his neck before smoothing the front of his delectably fashionable vest. Perfect. Then he dropped his eyes to the clock looming above the mirror, and he cursed before hurrying out the door. It wasn't uncommon for the bassist to be late—he was always considerably late. Fashionably late, if you will. Everyone seemed to question what he did with his time, even though he used most of it to pick what he was going to wear for the day—fishing through outfits took time, and he wouldn't go anywhere without looking impeccable. Biting his bottom lip, Yoshito raced down the spiralling stairway and slammed through the front doors. Fortunately, he didn't live far from said meeting place and he knew Rika would have already been there, she was always first to every occasion. He wasn't sure why. “Crap, crap!” Yoshito sputtered, breaking into a jog as he rounded the next corner. It was only when he spotted the shining neon light of Jim's Burger that he slowly moved into a brisk walk to catch his breath, quickly bringing his hands to his hair to fix whatever mess he'd made. Pushing the doors open, he cleared his throat before quietly plodding behind Rika, who was wearing a cute little outfit, and brought his arms around her way to give her a quick hug. They were close for a band and he felt like they were the only ones there for him, so he clung to them. Releasing her and slipping onto the stool beside her, he took his coke and smiled softly.

“Dimitri's not here yet?” Yoshito questioned, arching an eyebrow before snapping the tab of his coke open. “And how're you doing on this fine day?” He just hoped she wouldn't question his lateness.

The girl with her blond hair let down heard noise from the stairs, then the door to the restaurant opening with a loud creak. She soon saw Yoshito in his tie and trendy vest standing there, taking her for a quick hug, one that they used as a greeting since their band, “Flight Risk,” was somewhat close, and seeming to always be there for each other. She looked around seeing that they were the only ones in this stranded store, at the time and frowned. “Dimitri’s not here, it is interesting that you are here earlier than him.” She spoke again, “I’m fine today on this day, and how are you, Yoshito-Kun?” The girl soon opened a coke for herself taking a sip before another creak encountered her.

A lady dressed in professional, expensive business clothing walked in, approaching her and Yoshito. Rika felt a professional aura from this woman maybe it was because of the clothes. The lady handed them a business card, she took it and nodded, “Yes, we are Flight Risk members.” The blond stared at the cards reading the information with careful eyes before tapping Yoshito on his shoulder handing it for him to see. “Yes, I’m the vocalist, and he is the bassist,” she was surprised at the lady’s knowing but said nothing about it, just giving her regular calm look. She felt the ladies hand pinch her cheek and pat Yoshito’s head but ignored such things just calmly said, “The drummer is not here yet and we are yet to scout a guitarist from many.” Rika saw the lady turn to her phone and whispered to Yoshito, “How is the scouting going?”

The joint itself seemed increasingly empty over the years they met up there, Yoshito was afraid that at some point it would close down. Where would they meet then? The old, crochety place proved itself again and again whenever any of the members were upset—well, namely he and Rika, who'd flee their homes to meet at the diner for some smoothies. It seemed like they were the ones who were always emotionally unstable, which suited him just fine, it gave him someone to confide in, someone to relate to. If he were by himself, trying to smother all of his “unmanly emotions” down, he would've been lost. “Ah, that guys' always late, Ri-chan,” He complained, feigning a curt yawn before he nursed the coke sat in front of him. It wasn't like he was any better, but he'd always excused himself as fashionably late. It was important to uphold the bands' reputation, even if it meant as little as dressing nicely. “I'm alright, jus' wondering when we'll find a new place to practice, y'know?” He was about to comment about calling Dimitri when the diner's door slipped open, ringing the small bell looming above it.

Whoever strode through the door, dressed in an expensive business suit, looked out of place in the tiny diner. Not that they were dressed any differently, but the cooks and waiters' were used to them by now—they knew them by name, and knew what they always came for. Unlike them, this woman exuded business, as if it were her duty to full fill whatever important matter that was at hand. The woman moved with a certain grace only reserved for those who knew where she was going—in general, and in life, she cut her way through Jim's Burger and pinched the waiter's cheek before turning on her heels. Heels. Pumps, he noted. How woman walked in those creations, he could never guess. “Seems that way,” Yoshito responded as Kageno Pandora introduced herself—he already coined her Panda-chan—and he exchanged a wary glance with Rika. Fiddling with the business card, he spared it a few glances before reading the tiny-printed words and biting his bottom lip. She was right when it came to their lack of a guitarist, it was needed. He could play the bass brilliantly, but he figured that playing the guitar would be something completely different. “Dimitri's our drummer, he should be here... shortly,” He chipped in, nodding his head and glancing out the window as if to prove his point. Where the hell was Dimitri anyway? It was only when Pandora patted his head, tousling his hair in the process that he swatted at her. “Oi, were not children, lady,” He snapped, eyeing her as he brushed his fingers through his pale hair, attempting to fix it. Apparently, she hadn't heard him because her cellphone rang and she was squealing excitedly into the receiver. Was this going to be their producer? This would be their one chance, wouldn't it? Excitement electrified through him and he couldn't help but grin, folding the corners of the business card as he leaned into Rika, hearing her whispers.

Scouting. Yoshito sighed inwardly. Truthfully, he'd been working hard to find the perfect guitarist for their band, Flight Risk. They could demand nothing but the best. He'd only received a couple calls, but he still had to set up a small audition, presumably at his apartment. His gaze lowered onto his knees before he scratched the back of his neck. “I set up some auditions... but so far no luck,” Yoshito whispered back, arching his eyebrows. “We need more time.”

The girl whispered back to him, "Auditions won't do now. It seems to take much time which is ...” She looked at the coke that spilt on the floor, eyeing it, extra coke, no need for it anyways. Rika wondered at the words, “less profit,” money was all to people, cold hard cash. She spoke, “We wouldn’t audition or get scouted if we have no guitarist even if we are talented enough. I wouldn’t accept an offer, without a guitarist.” The blond looked at the ground, staring at the old tiles. “Sorry, we wouldn’t accept the offer for you scouting us a guitarist. We have our five senses, we’re not disabled.” She coughed at the words, “The Nocturnal.” The girl wished to not get involved with anyone from, The Nocturnal ever since their high school years… “I wouldn’t be pleased to be at the same level as, The Nocturnal.”

Rika stared as the waiter in his youths cleaned the place under the woman’s command. She stared as the lady, gave him a tip and told him to take the day off. Introduce them to her, she wished to not get into any of this but still spoke, “Rika Sakiko Yamashina, 19, attended the same high school as him,” pointing to Yoshito. “Fluent in English and Japanese, Vocalist.” She looked stared at the coke again, “No, need to pay for that. I just brought an extra by accident.”

She saw the door open again, bell ringing. A boy walked in with his ripped jeans, he looked familiar as she looked back to him wondering before leaning on Yoshito’s shoulder. “Yoshito, when is Dimitri going to come. I feel that I should stab him in his heart.” The girl took another coke taking a sip, sighing. She was tired, from work that was unrelated to the band.