Yoska's eyes begin to wander around aimlessly in boredom. With white irises scrounging around her black scleras, her gaze eventually falls onto this fuckin' punk next to her. She shifts side to side, fluffing her jacket hung from her elbows and totally side-eyeing them. What's their deal, huh? Got a staring problem? Her voice rough and hostile, she asks in the least polite manner she can muster,

"what?"