![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)

For this round, we want to see prompts that are based on settings or locations! For your prompts, please provide a location or setting. It can be as specific or as abstract as you want, and can be in any medium you prefer!
POINTS - BONUS ROUNDS
For prompts: 10 points each (maximum of 150 prompt points per team per round)
For fills:
First 4 fills by any member of your team: 100 points each
Fills 5-10: 50 points each
Fills 11-20: 40 points each
Fills 21-50: 30 points each
Fills 51+: 25 points each
FILL: Team Anime/Manga
Date: 2024-08-31 09:37 pm (UTC)“That’ll be twenty lien to take out for the weekend,” Cinder says. Winter kicks her under the table.
“Swipe your card here,” she says to the terrified-looking student, extending the reader from her side of the desk. “Ignore her, she’s being pedantic.”
“I’m not being pedantic,” Cinder starts, and Winter kicks her again. She huffs and kicks back.
The student wanders off, as most tend to do once they start bickering. It’s on days like these that Winter questions her entire sense of ambition in the first place. All it’s been good for thus far is days like these, where she winds up having to play the straight man to Cinder’s bullshit.
“Does being an asshole come naturally or do you have to work for it?” she asks idly, settling the reader back in its place at the top of her desk. Her computer buzzes gently as it registers the input; Cinder’s eyes flick between her profile and the screen as she double-checks it.
“Naturally. Why?”
Winter shrugs, too tired to follow it up with another ironic comment. She’s never been good at thinking them up on her feet. “Just wondering. When does your shift end?”
A pointless question; she has Cinder’s schedule memorised. She tells herself it’s just so she can avoid her more effectively.
Cinder shrugs. As soon as she’s sure no one’s watching the front desk, she curls her knees up to her chest, the sharp heels of her boots digging into the fabric of her chair. “Three hours. Sick of me already?”
“Very much so,” Winter mutters.
The corners of her mouth flick up into a smile. “Only three more hours. Hey, do you reckon if Jaune comes back I can make him cry?”