You are a hardworking, simple man.

You have a loving wife, two kids, and well-paying job at the Vale Embassy.

Life is good, even if not as glorious or glamorous as a Hunter's.

You make do, though, and take pleasure in the little things.

One of those being your lunch breaks.

You walk down to the cafe across the street, smile at the now-familiar waitress, order your favorite sandwich with favorite coffee, and take a seat at the secluded corner table.

It's simple, and routine, just how you like it.

So it was one of those days, sitting at your secluded corner table, that you found yourself in a dilemma.

You had your favorite sandwich, yes.

And you even had your favorite cup of coffee, sitting in just the right spot by the plate.

Except, now, there was someone sitting across from you, in that not-so-empty seat of your table by the corner.

And indeed, it was just a 'someone,' for you, being the polite man that you are, asked for her name, and got no reply.

She seemed content staring at you with her shifting pink and brown eyes.

You smiled, her face remained blank.

You waved, her hand remained holding her chin.

Odd.

However, you would make do, like you've always had, and take things as they went.

With a shrug, you grabbed your cup of coffee by its metal crook, and put it against your lips.

Your eyes closed, waiting for that sweet, black nectar.

It never came.

You opened your eyes.

Well, the girl seemed to have left.

But so did your cup of coffee, replaced with a cold, metal cane.

And now something was fussing with your hair!

You glanced up, and your gaze met hazel and pink.

Your mouth opened, ready to accost this scoundrel!

But no sound came as a gloved finger tapped against your lips.

Instead, you froze in confusion as the Huntress - because only those fools could do something so crass - leaped a few feet away, landing with arms crossed in contemplation.

Her brows furrowed for a second, before breaking with a sigh.

You felt rather disappointed with yourself, for some reason.

A blink, and she was gone.

So was the cane, and the light weight atop your head.

You looked down.

And your sandwich!

You ran to the street, cries of grief bellowing. "Thief, thief! Sandwich thief!"

Soon, however, you were left panting on your knees, sidewalk dripping with sweat and tears.

You could only stare after the sandwich-stealing blurs of pink and brown as they assaulted more men, canes and bowler hats flashing.