[She's definitely not old enough to be drinking any of these, but somehow she's ended up with a literal armful of glasses, which she's trying desperately not to spill as she looks for a place to dispose of them.
This doesn't quite work though; while she's doing a rather impressive job of winding and weaving around the crowds, ducking and avoiding people and managing to not spill a drop (if she thinks of this as training of some kind it makes it easier to deal with). However, someone moves in a way Chrome hadn't anticipated and knocks into her, throwing her off balance.
Despite her attempts to regain it, it's a moot point-- down she goes, and takes the drinks with her. A few glasses go flying, splashing anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in their path, but most of them just end up on Chrome herself. Glasses smash against the pavement and Chrome sits there for a moment, staring at the shattered glass and her own bloodied knees and palms and laments that she now smells very strongly of pineapple liquor. Who decided to make pineapple-flavored drinks in the first place?? This is the worst.]
[Frog Friend]
Please stop following me... [It's a tired sort of line, spouted as if it's the 47358th time she's done so and is now saying it out of a sense of habit. The frog, a garish shade of purple, croaks good-naturedly and, of course, continues to follow. Chrome sighs. Such is life.
She doesn't appear to be paying any attention to it beyond that spouted line every so often. She goes through her day and stops by a store, emerging carrying a bag loaded with sweets--mostly chocolate--and pretends she doesn't notice the frog gearing up for a big leap.
'Pretends,' because when it does leap, Chrome dodges it with practiced ease... but unfortunately that means some other soul might not be as lucky.
Oops.]
[Horrifying Hentai]
[The fact that this isn't the first and probably not the last time she's faced off against questionable tentacles says something about her life, surely. Despite this, Chrome flips and dodges like an acrobat, using her trident to stab where she can and destroy the tentacles as they come at her.
However, it appears all is lost as the tentacles seem to decide working together is best and close in on all sides. They hit her straight on, Chrome crying out in alarm as they begin to wrap around her, but--
Well, remember those literal electric eels? Yeah. Suddenly it's not Chrome wiggling around in their grasp, but one of those.] I'm over here.
[The real Chrome drops down from--somewhere high above, landing in a crouch before slowly standing, leaning slightly on the trident. Anyone with the ability to notice will pick up on the fact the eel had been illusioned to look like Chrome and switched out at the last possible second.
The eel wastes no time in letting its displeasure show. Who wants fried tentacles for lunch??
Chrome fusses with her bangs a moment and regards the dead tentacle creature with a mild amount of regret. Poor thing. Alas. The wiggling eel also disappears in a hissing smoke-- another illusion?]
There has to be a source somewhere... [This is getting tiresome, honestly.]
Chrome Dokuro | Katekyo Hitman Reborn! | God
[She's definitely not old enough to be drinking any of these, but somehow she's ended up with a literal armful of glasses, which she's trying desperately not to spill as she looks for a place to dispose of them.
This doesn't quite work though; while she's doing a rather impressive job of winding and weaving around the crowds, ducking and avoiding people and managing to not spill a drop (if she thinks of this as training of some kind it makes it easier to deal with). However, someone moves in a way Chrome hadn't anticipated and knocks into her, throwing her off balance.
Despite her attempts to regain it, it's a moot point-- down she goes, and takes the drinks with her. A few glasses go flying, splashing anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in their path, but most of them just end up on Chrome herself. Glasses smash against the pavement and Chrome sits there for a moment, staring at the shattered glass and her own bloodied knees and palms and laments that she now smells very strongly of pineapple liquor. Who decided to make pineapple-flavored drinks in the first place?? This is the worst.]
[Frog Friend]
Please stop following me... [It's a tired sort of line, spouted as if it's the 47358th time she's done so and is now saying it out of a sense of habit. The frog, a garish shade of purple, croaks good-naturedly and, of course, continues to follow. Chrome sighs. Such is life.
She doesn't appear to be paying any attention to it beyond that spouted line every so often. She goes through her day and stops by a store, emerging carrying a bag loaded with sweets--mostly chocolate--and pretends she doesn't notice the frog gearing up for a big leap.
'Pretends,' because when it does leap, Chrome dodges it with practiced ease... but unfortunately that means some other soul might not be as lucky.
Oops.]
[Horrifying Hentai]
[The fact that this isn't the first and probably not the last time she's faced off against questionable tentacles says something about her life, surely. Despite this, Chrome flips and dodges like an acrobat, using her trident to stab where she can and destroy the tentacles as they come at her.
However, it appears all is lost as the tentacles seem to decide working together is best and close in on all sides. They hit her straight on, Chrome crying out in alarm as they begin to wrap around her, but--
Well, remember those literal electric eels? Yeah. Suddenly it's not Chrome wiggling around in their grasp, but one of those.] I'm over here.
[The real Chrome drops down from--somewhere high above, landing in a crouch before slowly standing, leaning slightly on the trident. Anyone with the ability to notice will pick up on the fact the eel had been illusioned to look like Chrome and switched out at the last possible second.
The eel wastes no time in letting its displeasure show. Who wants fried tentacles for lunch??
Chrome fusses with her bangs a moment and regards the dead tentacle creature with a mild amount of regret. Poor thing. Alas. The wiggling eel also disappears in a hissing smoke-- another illusion?]
There has to be a source somewhere... [This is getting tiresome, honestly.]