Kin tapped his crisp, solid fingernails against the hardwood table. "You... have got to be fucking kidding me." picking up and tearing the scroll in two, Kin rose from his chair, tossing the pieces of paper into the fireplace as he passed it. They... they... they'd assigned Kin to work as a fucking waiter on an opening night event. Apparently they were low on staff and wanted someone with some shinobi training, in case some of the drunker guests acted up. He was to wear a suit and tie, with no sunglasses, no gloves, no trench coat. It was going to be a long fucking night full of morons staring... unless...

Kin removed two crisp suits from his wardrobe, both sleek black with a white under shirt and making black slacks. One he donned himself, slipping into it like an old glove. The other... he placed on Nik, his puppet. He was designed to look humanoid, and in a dark restaurant with people not paying attention, he'd probably pass pretty damn well. Kin could take the orders and then get Nik to deliver things while he relaxed in the kitchen pulling the strings. He'd get the assignment done and keep the staring at his arms and legs to a bare minimal. Maybe that way he could even get through the night without killing someone.

Pushing open the service door to the 'Taiko' restaurant with a sigh, Kin stepped through the small door, with Nik following behind, marching in unison with his master. "Kin, right?" a softly spoken woman called to him within seconds of his entering the staff area. A small asian woman in a tight black dress marched up to him, her high heels clinking gently against the hardwood floor. "Glad to see you got the notice about the dress code. Who is your frien-" the woman stopped mid-sentence, before pausing and taking a closer look at him "Is that... a puppet?" "Yes. It's a combat puppet. You want me, the puppets working with me. I'm in complete control of it through these strings..." Kin sent a pulse of chakra through the strings as he spoke, causing the strings to flare a beautiful blue and reveal themselves briefly. "I...see. Well, I suppose it'll be novel for the guests, at least. Just... make sure your control is precise. Last thing we need is your puppet buckling and spilling food on an important guest." "My control is always precise." Nik's left hand shot up, grabbing a cup off the bench to their left and toss it in the air. His right hand shot out, and caught the cup by the base of the cup with one finger before returning it to where he found out. As Nik did this, Rin's fingers barely moved more than a centimetre. "well okay then, he's in."

Kin floated around the dining room, a pad in his left hand, a pencil tip screwed onto the end of his right index finger. "May I take your order?" he said for the thousandth time this night, his mind wandering as he scribbled down the inane drivel the young girl and her pimple riddled date requested. "Okay I'll get that arranged for you right away, let me know if you need anything," he said with a sickly sweet smile as he turned to head into the kitchen. "ONE SHRIMP, ONE CALAMARI, ONE KING CRAB!" Kin roared over the clatter of the kitchen as he stuck the ticket on the line, his hands flicking wildly as Nik launched himself out of the corner of the room, his hands grabbing tray after tray. Kin loaded Nik with six trays; one on either hand, with the other balanced on the forearms. One on the top of the head and a final one inside the chest cavity. On these trays were the various drinks that had been ordered for the evening. With a flick of the wrist, Nik trundled from table to table, handing out drink after drink to a sea of endless plebs, until finally he returned with six empty trays. This pattern repeated itself for the next four hours, with Kin taking orders and then Nik delivering them over and over and over, until finally the last soulless parasite left the restaurant, and the evening was done. Walking Nik out of the restaurant, Kin sighed deeply, spitting on the ground as he glared at the shithole he had just spent his night in. Fuck whoever gave him that assignment.

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