He was still seething about the interaction a week later. There had been no reason for the woman to be so rude, he'd simply requested she keep the music down.
Totosai hadn't given him much information outside of her name, and Sesshoumaru hadn't been able to discern anything out of their short conversation. There had been no uniform or clue as to her occupation—or the reason she enjoyed blaring music at all hours of the night.
He'd hoped for a reprieve of some sort, especially with his threat to further the complaint, but once the weekend hit, it seemed to get worse, his ceiling vibrating three days in a row.
Not even the noise-cancelling headphones he'd purchased had made a difference.
Running a hand down his face, he tried to concentrate on the menu in front of him. Bokuseno had added some new items, none of which were his own, and Sesshoumaru needed to have them memorized by the following day, but the pounding of the din, along with his head, made it entirely impossible.
Not in the mood to repeat himself, he grabbed the binder and headed out of his apartment, intent on finding a 24-hour café.
And some peace and quiet.