Two explosions later the iPod is safely back in your grasp. You decide to go with the safest option of shuffling songs by Annapantsu, before dropping it in your pocket and smiling at your customers.

"So~ What can I getcha?"

The little shit that is Kacchan keeps asking for stuff on high shelves just so he can laugh when you can't reach and need Momo to help you. You, of course, accidentally get his order wrong a few times and say stuff in Spanish here and there to piss him off. 'Cause, y'know, you're petty like that. I almost typed pretty but that works too, you special beans.

Oh, the whole Spanish thing? You can speak the language semi-fluently since your school makes you learn a language of choice (there are four options but whatever) and you r e f u s e to dedicate the next three years of your life to learning FUCKING ENGLISH. Why the hell do they have to have so many grammar rules? Why are same-spelled words said differently? WHAT MAGIC POWER DO PEOPLE WHO CAN DO PERFECT ENGLISH POSSESS? TEACH ME YOUR WAYSSSS-

Cough cough.

You finally finish up the last bit of their orders, having already delivered the first half earlier. After swirling a 'fuck you' into the foam of Bakuhoe's drink, you hop the counter and skrrt your way over.

"Here ya go, thots," you say, getting one or two middle fingers. It really do be like that sometimes.

"Shouldn't your boss be looking into getting other workers to help you out around the café? I never see anyone else working here," Momo says, taking a sip of her tea. You're tempted to reenact what you did with Deku but her dress looks expensive and there's no way in hell you have enough money to pay for it.

"There are other workers," you say instead, idly balancing the empty tray on the tip of your finger.

Kirishima raises his eyebrows, and you wonder how the fuck one manages to get chocolate smears on their forehead. "Then why ain't they out here helping you?"

"Uh... I don't know if I've told you this before, buuut who cares. Basically, my brother owns this place, his friends are the other workers and they take shifts while I'm at school. They're also, like, the source of food somehow but idk soz."

Jirou twirls one of her earphone jacks around her finger, casually leaning back and giving you the most dead inside look you've ever witnessed. "Do you even get paid?"

"Sometimes," you say, then start moonwalking back to the counter. "You're not here to talk about my job though, so just enjoy the food I totally didn't drug."

It takes a moment for them to take in what you just said, so you at least get behind the counter and change the music to the white van song before they start screaming.

"wHAT—"