.o16 Hypnosis; A sticker for new car drivers

Being a new driver was difficult as it is, merging between cars and trying to find streets with out a gps. She often times got nervous as people completely ignored the sticker on her bumper, stating that the girl was a new driver. Though it indicated her status, no one really cared much. And so far, Sakura has dodged six near hit and misses and dealt with over a dozen people tail gating with a constant irritating beep beep from their horns. Often times when she was alone and driving her sticker-raped car, she flicked off offending drivers proudly and went along her way at a snails pace. But of course all the driving lessons in the world and advice from friends couldn't save her from an inevitable crash. It truly wasn't her fault as she was going the proper speed and on the right side of the street. It was the man's driver, the idiot instead of waiting patiently or honking like every one else did. The man wasn't paying any attention as he was attuning his services to the rich man in the back of a grandiose power. With red and white fans plastered on the back doors, indicating what the person was.

The road was in the middle of nowhere, Podunk Japan and they seemingly crashed in to one another. More like his driver rear-ended her. At first Sakura was scared, as both vehicles were parked on the side of the mountain road. After a while she took the initiative to get out of the vehicle, shivering in nervousness then in rage at the lack of concern the driver took in assessing the situation. Then again she didn't really know that the driver was actually a hired man for some one much richer than she would ever dream of becoming. But still she was mad, and uninformed as her fist rapt against the tinted glass of the driver's window. Nibbling quite effeminately at her lower lip glazed in strawberry gloss the window shuttered momentarily and scrolled down wards with the face of a regal looking man peeking from the back and the drivers' nervous face. No he looked more than nervous, he looked absolutely afraid if not embarrassed whilst the man in the back look smug with hints of anger. From there everything started going down the pot.

He ordered the driver, and he ordered him to basically speed him to where ever he wished. Self-importance that was the key, placing himself above others Madara looked down upon people who drove themselves or even struggled for work. He was an important CEO of a world known corporation and family in the back of a chauffeur-driven car, culturally acceptable in Japan by any terms since the rich never drove them selves. Of course somehow he was in a hurry to get past this mountain and his driver got stuck behind an infernally slow driver. Blatantly both ignored the sticker on her bumper stating she was new at driving, as they jockeyed them selves at her back end, tail gating to get her to speed up. It was stereotypically drawn that an elderly woman drove the offending car. Stupidly enough the chauffeur or basic taxi driver of his own vehicle slammed on the gas a little too much and jettisoned them into the back of the woman's vehicle.

Whiplash occurred, and he angrily protested with a hand rising to his neck. The family car was ruined and dragged by the rattling of its engine to the side of the road just as the woman did. This time he took it seriously to give the driver the blade of his tongue, slandering threats here and there. Finally after he had stopped threatening the career of the man the slam of a door resonated on the oddly silent road of the mountain. The figure of a young woman breeched the hypothesis he had of it being an elderly woman in front of their self-important car.

It changed everything; young women were easily beguiled by his charm and money. Flash 50,000 yen and they'd forget what happened on a stormy night in June. Truly like a fucking peacock, all show and glamour but no real heart. Ready to smoothly glide in an offer her things beyond any ones wildest dreams, a fist rapt on the glass and the driver proceeded with his look of horror to roll down the window to deal with her. The girl had bubblegum for hair and the eyes of grass, as her lips quivered fully ready to strike venomously at the driver. He peeked from his luxurious hidey-hole and plans other than paying her off were being formulated.

The girl knew something was up when a pair of eyes appeared behind the driver's upholstered seat, and the man went from babbling and nervous to rigid and stuttering. Truly she really didn't care to talk to the now constanant shifting man but to the 'owner' of the vehicle and the said driver of latent incompetence. Sakura was ready to snap, neither money nor bribes would placate her easy temper as her face leaned in more, past the driver's own to rudely stare at the corporate figurehead lounging like a weasel in the back in his high quality threads and cushions. Her face that of anger, as he blinked owlishly with a hand thumbing his checkbook. What a Bastard! Did he really think paying her off or batting those over puffed eyes would make the pinkette forget what just happened? She was at that point in time tempted to punch that sneaky bitch in the eyes but held back in fear of some sort of lawsuit of abuse. Roughly she snipped at the corporate snake with a teenage slang.

"OI"

She was completely tempted to say to him ' what were you thinking rich bastard?! Hitting me in the middle of no where, you better figure out a way to compensate me with out the use of your wallet or your pant snake.' But instead Sakura's body leaned in pas the freaked out cabbie, to stare down those unnerving eyes. Huffing a minty breath at the man, she continued her small tirade of informational prodding.

"Since we seemingly wrecked, May I have your insurance and driver's information? "

A polite parroting of what any driver was taught in those wretched classes if they ever had a wreck of some sort and they were still fine. Another thing that was a must was to get the police involved local or not, but Sakura wished she didn't have to call them to make sure or convince who ever hit her that they were at fault. Maybe it would be something that they wouldn't have to do, and it would be dealt with easily than with the squeals of those pigs in uniform. The man blinked at her cautiously his hands falling away form his wallet momentarily only to snap it open and calmly give her numbers and such that to write on those pale arms in scarring pen only to transferred to pale papers ruffled around a hap dash binder of a college girls whims. Not being one for vanities, as pale hair swept back from the mountain breeze.

She turned around looking at the information on her arm, away from the sleek car that was devastatingly crumbled in its front. To her own inverted bumper for a real piece of paper from the back seat and her cell phone. To call a damn tow truck and to get the hell out of here.