A ticket for jaywalking. She couldn't believe it! Who gets a ticket for jaywalking?

She huffs as she storms down the sidewalk, her messenger bag slung over her shoulder, her dainty hands gripping onto the strap, brows furrowed as those imaginary black clouds hover above her. Miyako is irritated to her core as the cold air nips at her, her unbound black hair falling in waves over her shoulder as her chocolate eyes focus on the sidewalk, ignoring the fellow pedestrians. She was pleased that others parted for her as she marches down the block. Finding herself walking past the court house, her mind entirely wrapped up, she must backtrack almost a block before she's climbing those stairs.

She's out of breath by the time she reaches the door, grasping the chilly handle and yanking it open, yet it wasn't a pull door it was a push. She yanks on it several more times before realizing that she wasn't opening it correctly. Her face flushing red, she glances over her shoulder to see if anyone had seen her, a group of people standing on the lawn looking away from her. Quickly pushing the door in, she stalks into the building, noting immediately how hot it was. Why was it so hot?

Unwrapping her scarf from her neck, she folds it carefully over her arm, making her way to the now packed elevator. Waving a hand at them to hold the door, they do and she rides in silence, that heat pressing into her. She could already feel a trickle of sweat sliding down her spine. It was the longest ride of her life, she felt as if she couldn't breathe. By the time she reaches her floor, she hurls herself out of the too warm elevator, wiping at her brow, she makes her way to the cashier's office, with every intention to argue her case and how she couldn't afford to pay for a ticket right now. She didn't think she did anything wrong!

Reaching the window, she schools her features into a polite smile to face a stern woman. Her hair is pulled tightly back, her gray locks dull in those fluorescent lights, glasses positioned on the tip of her nose. She looked more like an angry librarian than someone who worked for the courthouse. "Hello, I need to speak with you about this ticket," she says pleasantly, ruffling through her bag to retrieve the ticket, sliding it under the glass. The old woman just stares at her, those hawk-like eyes taking in every inch of Miyako. The woman snatches the pink slip away, inspecting it quickly before she looks up, "Seventy five dollars," the woman grounds out, folding her arms across her chest.

Brows flicking up in surprise, Mi didn't even have a chance to explain herself! "M'am, I can't afford to pay for this right now, I'm a college student I have-," she's roughly interrupted by the gravelly voice, "Yes, yes you have bills to pay, everyone has bills to pay, that doesn't change the fact you broke the law. Seventy-five dollars," she repeats, waving her hand in dismissal. Furrowing her brows, Mi slaps her hands on the table, leaning forward, forgetting about the glass as her forehead bounces off it. Leaning back just slightly, she rubs at the red mark on her forehead, "This is ridiculous! No one, gets tickets for jaywalking! Is that even a thing anymore?!" Her voice rises, her hands clenched into fists on the counter.

The woman regards Miyako with disgust, "Seventy-five dollars," she repeats, arms still folded. Throwing her hands in the air she scoffs at the woman, giving into her and forking out the cash, tossing it into the dip under the glass and stalks away. How rude that woman was! Not even giving her a chance to explain! Not that she had an explanation, but still. She's practically growling as she stalks to the elevator, hitting the button rather hard, waiting for it to arrive. When it dings, she throws herself inside and practically hits a brute of a man who nearly takes up the entire space by himself. Pausing, she mumbles and apology before side stepping him and entering that absurdly hot elevator.

Reaching up a hand, she still rubs at that red mark on her face, the other hand still wrapped about her messenger strap. Again, that ride feels obnoxiously long, another trickle of sweat rolling down the back of her spine. Shifting her bag, she's just about to whine at the heat when the elevator jerks to a halt. And Miyako and her clumsy human body, stumbles into the man, practically bouncing off of him and landing on the ground. God, he was like a brick. Grunting at the impact, she rubs at her her lower back as she's sprawled on the ground, the elevator lights flickering. Glancing up at the stranger, "I'm so sorry â€" are we stuck?"

Miyako Aiken