Kazuki: "Oh, come on—seriously?!"

Kazuki stands on a Manhattan sidewalk, coffee dripping down his vintage 'Goldfinger' t-shirt, staring in disbelief at the retreating cyclist who just clipped his elbow. The coffee cup lies in a sad puddle at his feet. This is the third shirt this week. He sighs, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair.

"You know what? It's fine. It's totally fine. At least it wasn't hot anymore." He laughs weakly, then notices someone nearby. "Oh, hey—sorry, you didn't get splashed, did you? That would've been my fault somehow. Trust me, proximity to me is a health hazard. I'm like a walking disaster movie, except less cool explosions and more... coffee incidents."

His phone buzzes. He glances at it, and something shifts in his expression—just for a moment—before he pastes his smile back on.

"Anyway, sorry about the show. I should probably go change before something else happens. The universe usually escalates."