Hi all, I know some of you already got notified that this chapter had been posted already. And I did post C6, but then I ended up hating it and deleting it within the same 24hrs, so sorry about that. I rushed to come up with something that is (I think) infinitely better ASAP.

DJmiso - I'm so glad this makes you laugh! That was my goal from the beginning. And yes, White castle lol

Thank you to all who favorited/followed!

I hope this makes you smile.

Stop and Smell the Roses

Kanda and Tim were getting along.

It was true. As Allen stared out the window of the car at the rest area, he could see the tall Japanese man taking a walk with a faithful golden retriever at his knee. Timcanpy was without a leash - he didn't need one half the time and since they were the only three people at the rest area, it seemed a little redundant.

Why were they the only three there? That was because it was almost five in the morning and they'd just crossed into Florida. A drive made all the easier because the portion of the I-90 that ran through Georgia lasted maybe five seconds.

Still, if Allen had learned anything from the trip thus far, it was that (A) Coffee was God's gift to mankind and (B) Kanda was the most stubborn and irritating man to ever intimidate the face of the Earth.

So why were the two sworn enemies (on Kanda's end, anyway), strolling around the rest area like a man and his best friend?

Allen had absolutely no idea.

Either way, he wasn't about to say anything. And he didn't, pretending to be napping when Kanda and Timcanpy finally returned from the humid morning air to continue their drive into the Sunshine State. Home to the best oranges, which Allen would make sure to sample at the earliest convenience.

The Brit had really wanted to stop at St. Augustine on the way through and visit the Castillo de san Marcos, but since the sun was barely above the horizon, he'd bet two cases of Florida oranges that it wasn't open. And after sampling some freshly squeezed orange juice at the welcome center, he didn't take that bet lightly.

It wasn't until a few hours of some serious speed-limit-breaking had passed that they ran into a problem.

The beaches were lovely. Like, seriously lovely. White sands, royal-blue waters, and roaring waves beating beneath the salty winds. Seagulls overhead rode the gusts off of the Atlantic, wings spread wide as they searched for scraps of bread left behind by the beach-goers.

Or at least, that's what Allen figured it looked like.

After certain events had conspired the previous evening (er, early that morning, actually), events which both had sworn to never talk about again, Kanda had hit the road like Florida was sinking into the ocean if they didn't get there in time. Which Allen admired, since his own ability to drive in the dark ranked up there with Marie's ability to see colors.

Kanda, however, didn't have any problems navigating eighteen-wheelers five-times their size, or itty-bitty sports cars a fifteenth that, in the pitch-black (unlit) roadway of the I-95. Especially with three cups of coffee on board (the dark, extra strength caffeine stuff that didn't taste good without adding its weight in sugar).

So why was it that they had been in Florida for the past four hours and still hadn't seen the beach?

Kanda's shortcuts. That's why.

And, well, Allen couldn't exactly blame him. The I-95 was pretty crowded. Especially once the sun came up. But… that was kind of par for the course in road trips – the good with the bad. Even if sometimes the 'bad' led to more bad – one example being now.

Because at around 8am that morning, Kanda had had enough. He diverted them off the I-95 fifty miles before Miami. Apparently, there was a connecting road they could take to bypass the city traffic. Something that was easy, direct, and just a little slower than the I-95 speed limit.

Or, so he said.

After plenty of meandering (in no part aided by Allen's backseat driving), the trio was now smack-dab in the middle of some marshland road, miles from open water and any potentially helpful civilization.

But this wasn't the first time they'd gotten lost. So, really, there was no reason to panic.

That is, until the car broke down.

The dark sedan, which had carried the travelers 1,200 miles, putting up with the pit stops, dented bumpers, road hazards, and inclement weather (as well as certain suspicious local phenomena), had apparently reached its breaking point. And no amount of sweet-talking on Allen's part or swear-threats on Kanda's could change its mind.

Allen stood beside said vehicle, parked on the shoulder of a no-name two-lane highway. A humid breeze blew between the rail-thin trees, ruffling strands of his silver hair. It was warm out, but whatever storm they'd encountered in the Carolinas still shrouded parts of Florida, providing the occasionally puffy shadow to relieve the heat. The flying insects in the surrounding swamp water, however, didn't seem to get the message, buzzing in the air without a care in the world. The bugs only encountered danger when they veered too close to Kanda, who had the reflexes to stop flies dead in their tracks, never mind wasps and beetles twice that size.

Fortunately for the flying annoyances, Kanda was in the process of examining the car engine. Hood up, steam billowing out, he had a scowl on and a temper to match as he examined the dark components for some explanation to their sudden breakdown.

Why wasn't Allen helping? Well, that was an easy answer – Kanda wouldn't let him drive, never mind tinker around in his prized thirty-thousand dollar engine. Hence his banishment to Tim's side; The golden retriever had his head hanging out the window, oblivious to the growing frustration of the two adults.

"Have you found the problem yet?" Allen asked. Because… well, it was hot. And he was hungry, dammit.

Kanda didn't give any indication he'd heard him, busy clinking around inside the hood of the car.

"Move over," Allen sighed, stepping beside the annoyed driver at the front of the car. "I've been working on my motorcycle for years. I know a thing or two about engines. I'm sure I can fix this."

"Touch my car and die."

"So, what, you want to keep hanging out here in the swamps and hope we don't get bit by some disease-carrying insects? I'm taking a look."

A grunt. "Like you took a look at your bike? It broke down. In three hours."

He just had to go there, didn't he?

"Hey, that wasn't my fault! It was working fine over the weekend. I'm sure-"

"You're sure, what? Someone broke into the garage of a random college student and sabotaged your bike? Without Tim noticing?"

Both adults looked involuntarily towards the golden retriever, who was in the process of trying to chomp down the fly circling his head.

"…Never mind. That's actually a possibility," Kanda deadpanned.

"Okay, well, just… move."

"You move. I'm calling a mechanic."

"There's no need to do that. I'm sure we can fix it ourselves."

Kanda scowled, pulling up his phone to follow through on his threat. "I'm not wasting any more damned time on this."

With an eye-roll, Allen went back to examining the engine. "Just let me try first."

Kanda grunted, standing back with his arms crossed, daring Allen to fix it. Which was totally uncalled for. Because he could do this. Even if the engine was like twice the size of his motorcycle. With… weird things that didn't look like engine parts.

But… whatever. At the heart of it, all machines were the same. He'd figure this out in no time.

XXXXX

40 minutes later

"Found the problem?"

With a scowl, Allen had to admit defeat. "Alright, alright. Call a local mechanic and see if they can-"

"Fuck."

"What?" He asked, slamming the hood down.

"No signal."

"Seriously?" both let out a put-upon sigh, heat making the setback even more uncomfortable. "Which way?" Allen asked, glancing up and down the road that stretched miles in either direction, nothing but vibrant trees and buzzing bushes as far as the eye could see. Which wasn't very far since Florida swamp forest was surprisingly thick, but it was clear enough they were very much alone.

Kanda took a few seconds to glare at pretty much everything before deciding, "Right."

Instead of going back the way they came, where they knew nothing lived, Allen didn't argue, grabbing Tim's leash and a few snacks for the road. Kanda pocketed the remainder of their cash and Mugen before locking the dark sedan, the trio striking off down the asphalt.

With the trees overhead, the walk wasn't as scorching as it could have been. But even so, by the thirty-minute mark, even Timcanpy had slowed down, tongue lolling dejectedly from his mouth.

Not to mention, Allen was getting bored. He couldn't play eye-spy with himself, and since he'd tried asking Kanda (only to get a very firm but rude rejection), there weren't many options left.

After ten minutes of the boring silence, he finally asked, "So, what do you think of Florida?"

As conversation-starters, it wasn't the worst. Probably. Even if Kanda acted like Allen just mistaken Mugen for a back-scratcher.

"Okay, okay, forget I asked. But, I don't know, I kind of like it."

"…All the time you've spent here has been inside the car or walking the dog."

"Yeah, well, you can tell a lot about a place by its rest stops."

"Why am I not surprised," Kanda scoffed.

Allen feel like he was being insulted, but without knowing how, it was a little hard to fire back. "You ever been? To Florida, I mean, not the rest areas," he clarified upon the scathing look.

He knew Kanda hadn't gone on any trips when they were in high school together, but that was… four years ago? Maybe? Who knew what the other had been up to since then.

A scowl before he muttered, "Yes."

"Whoa, seriously? When?"

"The Old Man."

"You actually went on a trip with Tiedoll?"

That would be hard to unsee: the Tiedoll brothers stuck together on a family road trip. Minivan loaded down with suitcases full of Kanda's girly hair-products, Marie stuck in the back with his headphones on. Chaoji would probably end up in the shot-gun seat, busy monologuing about his latest charity, while Tiedoll hummed along diligently in the driver's seat, oblivious as Kanda tried to impale Daisya in an attempt to stop the man's never-ending commentary on anything and everything they passed by.

Kanda, noting Allen's not-so-silent laughter, snapped, "It was for Marie's wedding."

…Oh.

Allen had been invited, but it was during a crucial exam week at university, so going anywhere that wasn't the sciences building, grocery store, or his apartment was out of the question. The best he'd been able to do was a video call. It hadn't really occurred to Allen that Kanda would be there. Which… made sense, since they were brothers, but still.

At least he'd got them a good wedding gift. A friend in art school helped him write a piano solo. Not grand or anything, but it wasn't like he had the money to…

Wait.

"Holy shit, we're screwed."

"What," Kanda asked, sounding just one side of irritated.

The white-haired adult was too busy thinking on his sudden realization to answer right away.

This was the worst. The absolute worst.

"At least answer, Moyashi," the Japanese snapped, crossing the roadway to Allen's side.

"The Wedding presents," he answered, too distracted to snap back at the insult. "The clowns stole our wedding presents."

…

"Fuck."

"Oh man," The white-haired adult moaned. Because… he was screwed. Seriously screwed. "I spent weeks, weeks looking for that gift." And he did. Weekends and extra off-hours trying to find the perfect gift for his best friends' wedding. Something he could actually take time for now that he had the money. Or, well, actually had money.

"You want to know what I got her?" he continued, even though it was obvious Kanda didn't care. "A hand-painted sake cup set! You know how expensive that is? They were the flat ones, you know, sakazuki? For drinking at ceremonies and things?"

"Those are Japanese, idiot."

"I know that, but they were cute! And I thought she'd like it." Grey eyes dropped down in disappointment before spying the sullen look on Kanda's face. "What'd you get her?" Then, smirking, he answered his own question. "Instant Soba? 'Enjoy the tastes of Kanda's favorite food from home'."

"Shut up."

"No, seriously. What'd you get? I mean, you're going to make me replace it anyway. Might as well tell me."

A scowl, then silence.

Allen, thinking he wasn't going to say, started walking again. At the same time, he pulled out a bag of jerky to console himself with this latest revelation.

"A Jade jewelry set."

The Brit paused, mouth open, about to bite into a piece of dried meat. "Isn't jade a symbol of health and strength?" A nod, and Allen continued, "What'd you get, exactly?"

"An earring for Lavi and a matching necklace for Lenalee."

"That's… actually kind of cool." As a reward for answering, Allen held out a piece of jerky to Kanda, who took it wordlessly.

"Of course," he agreed.

"Okay, well, there's no way we're going to find anything to replace that stuff before we get there. Any ideas?"

"Not my problem – you lost it, you replace it."

Allen scrubbed his face with his hands. "Could you, like, not be a prick for two seconds?"

"Fuck you."

"Just… Help me think of something we can get them that isn't going to cost me a month's rent."

Before any inspirational ideas could be aired aloud, a thundering boom sounded overhead.

Allen swallowed some more jerky, all three turning their gazes skyward. In the past half hour they'd been walking, the sky had apparently clouded over with heavy grey, dark clouds. So dark that it was a wonder none of them had noticed but was probably thanks to all the palm fronds overhead. Which were like the size of dinner plates.

"Oh man, I hope it doesn't-"

Before Allen could jinx their walk, rain fell from the sky.

Not just any rain. It was they heavy stuff, like someone upstairs was unending a bucket of water over the earth.

"Shit."

Allen could only grunt in agreement. Because, well, now his jerky was ruined. Which was just great.

He wasn't given a lot of time to morn, because with the soggy weather, Kanda was more anxious than ever to get the hell out of there. Timcanpy, whining, couldn't help but agree. Unfortunately, with no real place in mind, the three of them ended up running aimlessly down the road, in the rain, for several minutes before coming across a busy town.

Well, 'busy' might have been a bit of a stretch, but it was more crowded than the past five miles of endless two-lane highway had been.

It was an old town with a single main street (which they happened to be standing on), looking about ten years away from being enveloped by the surrounding forest. Despite the hazards of wildlife, numerous trucks lined the road, loaded down with fishing tackle or pulling a boat behind them. The rigs didn't look ocean-safe, so there had to be a lake somewhere nearby.

Allen and Kanda ducked under the first awning they came across. It covered the windows belonging to a quaint diner, cement sidewalk beneath them already turning dark with rain. The two adults took a few seconds to appreciate how thoroughly drenched their clothes were before Kanda scowled, wrung out his pony tail, and stepped inside.

Since dogs weren't allowed – and Allen suspected a wet dog wouldn't be any better – he planted them at one of the rickety iron tables out front.

Despite how wet he was, Allen wasn't actually cold. Probably because Florida was so humid and warm to begin with, not to mention the absence of any wind. It was actually a nice change from the freezing borderline ice-like rain of the northeast, but thanks to the humidity, it would probably take the whole walk back to the car before he dried off.

"Can ah get you somethin' to drink?"

Allen almost jumped when a pregnant woman in a pink dress stepped out from the diner with a notepad. She was far less startled, taking her soggy customers in with an impassive glance.

"Um…" Well, Kanda did have the cash, but… Jesus, he was hungry. Probably the stress. Surely he deserved something better than half-wet jerky, right?

By the time Kanda came back outside, Allen had ordered for three. And a small portion for Kanda, since he figured they guy would be a little peckish.

"Did you find a mechanic?"

Before the Japanese man could answer, the waitress returned with bath towels she'd scrounged up from somewhere. "Here ya go. You folks look kinda cold. Oh, your orders should be up in a bit."

The white-haired adult took the proffered materials with a smile, handing one to Kanda. The woman had just vanished back inside when a pair of glaring sapphire eyes pinned him to the chair. "What order?"

"Lunch! Don't worry, I took the liberty of getting something for you. And if you don't want it, I'll just eat it and you can get something else."

"This isn't a picnic," Sour Puss corrected with his trademark disdain.

"Obviously. We don't have to do the dishes or make the food. Nice, right?" He grinned, completely ignoring Kanda's point. "Besides, I'm guessing the mechanic's going to be a bit. And unless you want crumbs in your car, this'll be a mutually beneficial for both of us. Kind of like…"

"Parasites."

"Parasites are hazardous to the host," Allen corrected with a jerky piece. "We're more like symbiotes."

"Keep tellin' yourself that."

"Anyway," he munched, breezing passed the insult, "When's the mechanic coming?"

A tsk as the other sat down, ringing his hair out with the bath towel. "He'll pick us up in an hour."

Allen was just about to thank the other for finding someone who would not only fix the car, but also pick them up, when he noticed how wet Kanda was.

Since he'd never seen the guy swimming or at the gym showers (thanks to the other's sadistic schedule), this was the first time Allen had actually seen him so wet. Not sweat-drenched, but actually wet, clothes shucked onto his body, skin glistening with dripping water.

He wasn't the only one paying attention. A row of tables sat just inside the diner front, a few of the female customers openly ogling the Japanese man through the glass. They weren't staring at Allen, but that was probably because he'd swaddled himself in the towel like a drenched puppy. Unlike the other, who was systematically wiping himself down, shaking his head, wiping his ears, arching his back. In very… potentially suggestive ways.

If the person's mind was prone to thinking that way. Not that Allen's was.

Kanda's dark bangs were the only thing so far that had the vigorous drying. The white-haired adult was about to say something when a drop of water made its escape. It was a little mesmerizing to watch the droplet run down Kanda's tanned forehead, following the contours of his lean cheek, sharp jaw, and finally under. The glistening trail went to gravity's call down Kanda's lean, smooth neck, catching the light when he turned his head to the side, droplet continuing its path across collar bones, finally vanishing beneath a tight, dark shirt. Seriously tight.

"What?" Kanda snapped.

Allen almost jumped. Almost, because it was only considered jumping if feet left the ground. "Um, uh, I was just… What're you doing?"

Kanda ignored him as he yanked his shirt off in one swift motion.

If people hadn't been staring before, they definitely staring now.

"What the hell are you doing?" He asked, voicing the thoughts of the thirteen women and one man also paying attention.

Kanda scowled, completely shameless as he dried off his chest with wide, circular motions. That accomplished, he began wringing out his shirt over the side of the porch. Still half-naked, hair still sticking to his skin.

Allen… could not stop staring. It was physically impossible to look away. Which he told himself was just admiration. Because Kanda was seriously sculpted. Not a body-builder, but a fighter, with a slender waist, hints of ab muscles, and a chest that was firm enough to bounce a quarter on.

He finally regained his mental faculties when Kanda shrugged the half-dry shirt back on. Allen ignored the hint of disappointment, mixed with relief. The fabric didn't cling as tightly as before, and Kanda was wearing an unusually satisfied expression. Probably because he felt like he'd just kicked mother nature's ass.

Still, Allen couldn't stop the unbidden thought: I wonder what else would satisfy him.

No, stop! Brain, stop!

"What the fuck are you doing?" Kanda asked, sounding maybe concerned as he watched Allen hide his face behind the towel.

"Uh… never mind. I was just saying that, um, maybe we…" He trailed off, gaze caught on some not-so-drenched shoppers across the street.

Kanda, properly dressed, followed the Brit's gaze.

Three men were unloading a few bags from their beat-up burgundy sedan. One of them trailed ahead, going into a pawn shop. The visitors didn't look particularly spectacular, chattering on about something the two adults couldn't hear through the rain, but… something seemed familiar about them. It nagged at the back of his brain.

A second later, he noticed a ruby-red suit hanging out of one of the bags.

"Are those…"

"The clown robbers," Allen confirmed, tone loaded with enough disdain to make Timcanpy nervous. Not that the dog needed help – he was already sitting at attention, sites narrowed in on the offending thieves with a very low growl.

"That's right, Tim," the white-haired adult encouraged. "Sic'em."

Neither adult made the usual remarks when faced with law-breakers. Allen didn't say anything about going to get the cops, nor did he comment when Kanda hefted Mugen with a murderous aura. An aura so strong that the waitress, who'd been coming out with their food, promptly went back inside.

Kanda, likewise, didn't bother with any threats. It was clear enough what needed to be done. And both were willing to go the extra mile to do it.

Even Timcanpy was ready to kick some clown-robber ass.

Only, before they did so, Allen poked his head back inside the diner with, "Can we take that to-go?"

XXXXX

Catching the clowns by surprise was laughably easy. Which Allen found very ironic.

The three robbers were more than surprised when Allen and Kanda, their previous victims, strolled into the pawn shop, vicious attack dog at their side.

At least, that's why he figured they looked afraid. In reality, it probably had to do with the three-foot blade Kanda wielded like he was about to go Kitchen Wars on the nearest volunteer.

"So, I guess you know why we're here."

Much like the stand-off at the O.K. Corral, the two parties stared each other down, one waiting for the other to flinch. In Kanda's case, his weapon was already drawn, but Allen could see indecision from the opposition as the pseudo-clowns seemed itching to have a weapon in hand. The pawn broker, much like the innocent civilians of that famed stand-off, shifted his gaze between the two parties with a wary eye.

"We do," Bert, the taller and meatier clown, affirmed.

Despite their initial shock, the bandits had overcome their fear in place of defending their loot.

"Hand it over. All of it," Allen ordered with all the confidence of a 18th century gunslinger.

"Don't got it anymore," Bert answered in a gruff voice. "Pawned it already."

Their brave front vanished as Kanda not-so-casually whipped his sword through the air, barely avoiding slicing a buzzing fly in half.

"How about this," Allen drawled, rooting around in his pockets. "I'll give you a chance to keep everything. If you can beat me in a game."

Suspecting a trap, Bert narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "What game?"

"Texas hold'em," The Brit announced. Then, meeting the eyes of the near-terrified store clerk, asked, "mind if we use your counter?"

He seemed about to turn him down… until he saw Kanda. "Sure! Sure, sure, all yours!"

It was easy to lull the clowns into a false sense of security as jelly bean after jelly bean passed out of Allen's pile and over to the three clowns. Kanda waited patiently, dissuading any pawn-broker customers from their side of the store with a single glance. Allen, Bert, and the two henchmen clowns played round after round.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the tables turned.

And kept turning until the clowns had nothing left to bet with. Literally nothing, since at one point they'd got so desperate that they'd resorted to strip poker. Something that prolonged the game but also left the two adults with a sight they'd never be able to unsee but wish they could.

"Pleasure doing business," Allen managed to grin, purposely avoiding Bert's hairy shoulders and man-gut, exposed for all to see in the near paper-thin undershirt.

The shorter one, Oliver, was just about to hand over the bags when Bert reached for his weapon (somehow he'd managed to keep it hidden in the remains of his clothes).

Only, before he could finish drawing the gun, Kanda had a sword to his throat. "Drop it."

He did, the weapon hitting the floor with a squeak.

Squeak?

Allen bent down to inspect it, Timcanpy sniffing the weapon curiously. "Bullshit."

"What?" Kanda asked, eyes still trained dangerously on their opponents.

The white-haired adult hefted the weapon. Pointed it at Bert. And fired.

Nothing happened. At least, nothing deadly. The only thing that shot from the gun was a spray of water that landed on Bert's shirt, followed by an automated honking tune from within the plastic gun.

"Fucking hell," Kanda exploded, now looking mere seconds away from decapitating the clown robbers.

"Hey, hey, easy there!" Oliver whined, apparently mustering the last of his brave energies to keep the murderous Japanese swordsman at bay. "I-it was just a prank! Never meant to hurt anyone! Honest!"

Allen was pretty sure they'd be making a trip to the station – this time for disturbing the peace, manslaughter, and illegal gambling, forget arresting the clowns – until their mechanic's truck pulled up on the street outside.

"Do it again, and I'll be back," was Kanda's dire warning, urge to fix his car winning over his urge to kill the clowns.

Still, he couldn't resist drawing his blade back so fast it clipped off part of Bert's shaggy gray locks. With that, he stormed out. Allen, stolen items in hand (and the clown's clothes), followed behind.

It had stopped raining outside, which was great. And, bonus, the diner had packaged their lunch into to-go containers so Allen could take it for the road. Although he was having a hard time carrying it all, but… whatever. He could feed some to Tim if the load got too big.

Ten minutes of discussing between Kanda and the mechanic, getting a smelly wet dog into the back of the tow truck (which for some reason made Kanda lose his appetite), and the four were puttering back down the road.

"You know, despite the car breaking down," Allen said between bites of fries, "This has been a pretty successful stop. I mean, I got lunch, you got revenge, and we both got our clothes back. All's well that ends well."

A hum was Kanda's only answer, Allen continuing, "And we're making good time. Lavi's bachelor party isn't until, what, seven? That's like… eight hours from now. And we've got maybe five hours of driving left."

Another bite of hamburger, fries, hamburger, then, "With any luck, we'll get the car fixed and be out of here in an hour. I mean, it's pretty new, right? Shouldn't need much work."

"Unlike someone's bike."

Fortunately for Kanda, Allen was too high on calories to kick his ass for that snide comment. Which he could totally do, by the way. Just, maybe after eating.

"I think you're gonna need more than ah mechanic ta` fix that, boys," the mechanic drawled from the front.

Allen, who'd been busy looking for the other packet of fries, took a second to process the driver's words.

"I'm sorry?"

"Ah think you're gonna need a dealership."

It was only when Allen popped his head over the console that he saw the problem.

Oh shit.

Looking at the scene, information from (yet another) discovery channel episode filed through his brain like words on a teleprompter. Spanish moss – that grey weed-looking stuff hanging from branches – could get incredibly dense. Sometimes this would lead to insects living inside, but more often than not, it concentrated a lot of rain water. A lot of water that would magnify the weight of the moss, dragging down whatever it was attached to. Sometimes the moss could even tilting whole trees over because of how much weight it gathered.

Allen knew this. Logically. But somehow, seeing the devastation in person was far worse than seeing it on the TV.

A bundle of water-logged Spanish moss had snapped a branch off. The branch, in turn, fell to the ground.

Only for Kanda's car to break its fall.

The mechanic was right. He wouldn't be able to fix this. Assuming it was fixable at all.

The human-sized log had landed right on the hood of the dark sedan, causing both ends of the hood flip up like a piece of wax catching rain water. Only in this case, the car had caught a hell of a lot more than water. Even from this distance, it was clear the engine was completely demolished.

Kanda didn't look much better.

Allen had never seen him look so devastated. Usually, his expressions fluctuated between annoyed, furious, or indifferent. Sometimes a splash of agitation or mocking disdain mixed in in to the usual palate of angriness.

This expression was completely new. Wide eyes, parted mouth, twitching eyebrow. As if he couldn't decide if he was about to go on a murderous rampage with Mugen or just cry.

"It'll be fine," Allen tried to assure, resting a hand on Kanda's shoulder with, "Look on the bright side – I won't have to pay to fix the dent in the back."

Nope, never mind. Enraged. He was definitely enraged.

Allen withdrew his hand, flinching like he'd touched a hot stove. Because Kanda's eyes said it all.

He was dead. So dead.

So much for Florida being a nice place to visit.

Florida Keys: 5 hours

And that's a wrap! Let me know what you think in a comment if you have time. Otherwise, I'll see you in the next update (which I hope will be sooner than this one was). Thanks for reading!