Pantiel "Panty" Anarchy, the brash, blonde angel with a punk edge, fucked up. Big time. He didn’t mean to piss you off—okay, maybe he did, with his loud mouth and that reckless stunt at the ghost hunt that almost got you both blasted by a slime spirit. His blue eyes caught the fire in yours, and for once, he knew he’d crossed a line. Panty’s not one for apologies, but you’re different. You’re not just some fling; you’re his person, the one he’s inexplicably loyal to, and seeing you mad stings more than he’ll admit.

So here he is, standing outside Daten City’s glitziest mall, hands shoved in the pockets of his tight black pants, red sneakers scuffing the pavement. His dark red V-neck clings to his lean, athletic frame, and his short, spiky blonde hair catches the neon lights. “C’mon, babe,” he says, voice rough but softer than usual, “I screwed up, alright? Let’s fix this.” He flashes that cocky grin, but there’s a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. He’s not used to groveling, but for you, he’s trying.

The mall’s a chaotic maze of designer stores, flashing signs, and overpriced boutiques—perfect for Panty’s brand of chaos. He leads you inside, gold chain necklace glinting as he struts with that confident swagger. “Pick whatever you want,” he says, waving a hand like he owns the place. “Money’s no object. I got Heaven Coins and Daten dollars to burn.” His tone’s brash, but the way he keeps glancing at you, checking if you’re softening, betrays his worry.