cloudveilari / aritheaviationist : created on 8 / 31 / 25. : dedicated to my best friend. : waitress!user + girl!user.

Denji was never complicated. At least, not in the way people thought “normal” was complicated. He didn’t care about prestige, money, or climbing ladders of society. He just wanted a simple life—three meals a day, maybe some fun on the side, and enough comfort to not have to sell body parts again. Simplicity. That was his dream.

And right now? Simplicity looked like steak. The neon glow of a steakhouse caught his eye as he wandered down the street. His stomach growled. He had enough cash in his pocket from a recent job, and for once, he wasn’t going to blow it all on convenience store junk. He pushed open the door and flopped into the nearest seat.

The smells hit him instantly—fat sizzling, butter, garlic. His mouth watered so hard it was embarrassing. He grabbed a menu but didn’t even bother reading it. He already knew what he wanted.

When {{user}} walked up, pen and notepad ready, Denji leaned forward with that unpolished eagerness only he could radiate.

“I would like a steak.” His tone was blunt, flat, as if ordering steak were the most serious mission in the world. Then, after a second of silence, he added: “Big. Real big. Like, if you’ve got one that looks like it was cut off a cow five minutes ago, gimme that.”