Miya can feel her eyes drooping, her head casually placed in her hand as she vaguely listens to the guest speaker lectures about a type of healing. The woman had hardly slept much in the last couple of nights and she didn't sleep but an hour or two last night after she had a run in with a little red panda that had snuck into her apartment. All hell had broken loose the moment Miya grabbed that broom and proceeded to chase the little creature around, knocking stuff off the counters until she trapped the panda in the bathroom. Turned out it was Arlo's little friend he had told her about when she first moved in. The woman had thought he was kidding, even though he showed her pictures, she thought she had made it very clear he couldn't very well have a wild animal in the apartment!

It was catastrophic.

She would be needing to purchase several new things, including a lamp. Parting her delicate lips, she sighs quietly, reaching up to rub at her tired eyes. Dropping her hand onto the desk, she's ignorant to how very close her water bottle is sitting on the edge of the desk, her hand nudging it just enough to fall. The resounding sound of the metal bottle against the ground echoes through the room, the guest speaker pausing to glance at her, while her professor shoots her a filthy look. Flushing a brilliant red, she murmurs a quiet apology before reaching down and grabbing it, but this time she shoves it into her messenger bag on the ground in front of her. How very mortifying! It isn't long after before the guest speaker dismisses them, Miya carefully gathering her things and slipping it into her bag. Slinging her messenger bag over her shoulder, she has to navigate her way through a group of girls who are crowding the attractive Hawaiian man, questioning them about silly things that they already should've known the answers too.

Carefully pushing her way through, she finally reaches the door, avoiding all eye contact with her professor and the guest speaker, embarrassment still clinging to her features. The small woman didn't particularly want to be called out that she shouldn't have water bottles in the lecture hall anyways. Pushing through the door, she files into the crowd that takes them outside, tucking her face into her scarf to ward off the cold that immediately wraps around her the moment those doors open. Unable to fight off the shiver that wracks her body, she steps outside, her eyes glued to the ground as she quickly walks down the sidewalk, eager to reach the bus stop in record time; Miya merely just hoped the busses would be on time, she didn't particularly care to walk all the way home, nor did she have enough money on her to catch a cab. It was far too cold for her and she once again had forgotten that heavy winter jacket.

To cut off her distance, she quickly cuts through an alleyway, pushing off the memory of what had happened the last time she had tried to take a short cut. Shoving her cold hands into her pockets, a vaguely familiar voice shouts over the crowd. Hesitating in her step, there's a sense of dread that engulfs the girl as her head snaps up, her chocolate eyes scanning the crowd to see several sets of sneering faces as a few boys make their way to her. Miya pauses again, her head snapping to the side to see just how close she was to the bus stop. Why did she have to decide to take a short cut again. Quickly digging in her bag, "Hey there, sweetheart. Where's your little friend? You know, the one that went all beastie on us last time?" the leader grins at her viciously as they close the distance on her. Eyes widen slightly as she realizes she had left the pepper spray sitting on the counter at the apartment after her run in with the little panda. Still, she keeps her hand in her bag, her face turning stern as she regards the men approaching her without an ounce of fear on her face.

"She's not here," she states, her voice holding a much stronger note than she thought it was capable of. "If you don't leave, I will pepper spray you," she says sternly, adjusting her hand in her bag as if she were hiding the spray there. The men merely grin at her widely, though one of them hesitates, eyes going directly to her bag, brows furrowing in contemplation. "I think you're bluffing," one of them sneers disgustingly at her, taking a threatening step forward and grasping her arm. He yanks her forward, her hand forcefully removed from her bag, revealing she had no such canister. As they pull her forward, she stumbles before she sends her other hand flying, smacking him squarely across the cheek with more force than she thought she was capable. "Don't touch me," she glares at them, though he doesn't release her.

Miyako Aiken