Kirishima watches the clock. Quarter to seven… he’s almost done with his shift. His thoughts of what restaurant he’ll stop by are interrupted by the opening of the door, the appearance of a man with a slightly awkward expression on his face.

The guy looks his age, probably a manual worker by the look of those arms… Kirishima clears his throat, gestures for the man to sit down. The man does so, albeit squirming a little.

“Hello. My name is Kirishima. What seems to be the issue?” He asks, leaning forward in his seat as he looks at the man intently.