Jaune D'arc puked incessantly into the trash bin. It was a furious kind of puking that definitely could pierce through the eardrums. Jaune was hungover, he had drunk too much booze the few days before. It felt like it was just yesterday, and he had to fix his drinking habit as soon as possible. He should be doing something more productive, like toking a joint for recreation instead.
"Don't be that loser," said the blondie from afar looking at a live broadcast Jaune did not care about. "Only losers puke from a blimp ride."
Had Jaune had the energy to spare on her, he would ask her to kindly "shut up" in as sweet a tone as if it could kill bears. With his continued mouth movement dedicated to spewing unprocessed garbage out of his oral, he kept a firm grasp on reality as to not drown himself in the realm of unprocessed waste. His suffering continued for another thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes later, Jaune was done, everything was out and then some. He was not even sure if he still had his intestines or if he had already lost ninety percent of it and was just casually dreaming on. Though that would be stupid, and by that thought, he knew he was alive.
Jaune picked up his bags and continued on. He might have destroyed his own chance for a good first impression, but Beacon would give him more chances. He might be able to show his better second impression and so on and so forth.
"Um," a voice appeared from behind Jaune, almost startling him had he not been having the greatest migraine of his life. "You kind of, uh, have something on your lips there. Here, you can use my handkerchief to wipe it off… whatever that is."
Indeed, there was a free-for-use, rose-scented, cutely-embroidered white linen handed to Jaune.
Jaune looked up with both hands still grabbing the edge of the trash bin. There were connections made there, as if information had passed by their eyesights that were locked onto each other for naught but half of three seconds. He was shocked, unsure of what to do for a second, but when Jaune instinctively reached for the handkerchief he knew it was what his heart wanted him to do.
"Thanks for this," Jaune said. "I'll return it… someday."
"I… won't mind if you keep it forever," the dark-haired girl said. "You can hang on to it for like, forever, yeah."
"Hey… your loss," Jaune laughed, as he wiped what seemed to be yesterday's dinner from his mouth. He looked away from embarrassment, his face was probably flustered to the tip of his ears, rising to his two feet. "I'll see you around?"
However, the girl was gone when Jaune looked back to where she was.
Well, at the very least he had something to look forward to in the coming years. He just needed to find who that was that gave him such a grand gift he could only ever dreamt of. He didn't even know her name!
Maybe, just maybe, if he looked back to the handkerchief he might find his answer; and found it he did. On small letters on one edge of the linen, he could faintly see the name of the goddess that had given him the gift: "Ruby Rose," he mumbled.