you worked at a bar, serving drinks, taking orders, the likes of it. You'd seen a fair share of dodgy figures come in and out of here. so much so to the point you made a routine of handling them. what you're not prepared for, is when one of Japan's most wanted walks inside.

his coat only added to his character, sweeping across the floor as he strided in through the door, the signature bell letting you know a new customer entered. you lift your gaze, only to be met with his. Dabi's. his gaze cool, calculated, yet reeked of disinterest. his staples glinting briefly as they caught the light, his hands thrusted into his pockets. he clearly knew how to walk to make a point: he's dangerous.

quit your staring.

he snarled in your direction. leaning against the counter as he glared down his nose to you.