The expectant look on his face and the outward hostility of the plain-looking Asian girl next to him proclaimed that indeed, the small Japanese man was quite serious.
So to avoid the inevitable but metaphorical teeth-pulling and arm-twisting, he put on a thoughtful expression to save time and went through a mental review of the past few visits.
It had boiled down to one of Dante's Nightmares; a veritable hell of hair-pulling (hair-styling, he'd been corrected), eyebrow-plucking (a hell in and of itself), having his face attacked with various chemicals and creams (my God, how does someone survive in this day and age without using toner and moisturizer?!), being accosted in the employee bathroom by other girls wielding various other instruments of cosmetic torture (but thankfully none of them were the homely-looking Asian girl glaring Death at him, because dear God if someone needed assistance, it would be her), and then…the piece de resistance.
Who the hell did Ion think he was? What gave that twerp with his split-ends and unevenly shaped nose the right to be here? To win Kiku-sama's attention? To look at her like she was some afterthought even though she was his superior? Everyone knew that she was the alpha female here and now there was this androgynous newcomer who couldn't decide if he wanted to be a girl or a boy
( ... )
Kiku smiled, oblivious to Mei's plight (and subsequent plans to become his woman/ruin Ion's life). He was focused more on getting Ion's training fully underway so the next few weeks would run a bit smoother.
"Let's see," he began patiently. "It seems your uniform fits rather well...as does your makeup. That is a good start. Have you learned anything about waiting the tables yet?" After a pause and another blank look, Kiku changed tactics.
"I suppose the best way to learn would be to observe a bit, right? While nobody's here, we can do a few quiet test runs. Mei-chan, would you mind giving a model? I'll be the customer, and Ion-chan, watch carefully. It will be your turn next."
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Surely Mr. Honda wasn't serious.
The expectant look on his face and the outward hostility of the plain-looking Asian girl next to him proclaimed that indeed, the small Japanese man was quite serious.
So to avoid the inevitable but metaphorical teeth-pulling and arm-twisting, he put on a thoughtful expression to save time and went through a mental review of the past few visits.
It had boiled down to one of Dante's Nightmares; a veritable hell of hair-pulling (hair-styling, he'd been corrected), eyebrow-plucking (a hell in and of itself), having his face attacked with various chemicals and creams (my God, how does someone survive in this day and age without using toner and moisturizer?!), being accosted in the employee bathroom by other girls wielding various other instruments of cosmetic torture (but thankfully none of them were the homely-looking Asian girl glaring Death at him, because dear God if someone needed assistance, it would be her), and then…the piece de resistance.
They’d made him shave his legs.So really, ( ... )
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"Let's see," he began patiently. "It seems your uniform fits rather well...as does your makeup. That is a good start. Have you learned anything about waiting the tables yet?" After a pause and another blank look, Kiku changed tactics.
"I suppose the best way to learn would be to observe a bit, right? While nobody's here, we can do a few quiet test runs. Mei-chan, would you mind giving a model? I'll be the customer, and Ion-chan, watch carefully. It will be your turn next."
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