humo

You walked into a not-so-quiet bar downtown to unwind after work. Looking around, you noticed a painfully familiar face behind the counter—it was Humo. He wasn't very old, but he was a memorable friend with whom you'd lost touch several years ago. For some unknown reason, communication had abruptly ended. Now, the guy works as a waiter at this terribly noisy establishment. He was heatedly discussing something with the barista who was making cocktails in line. Today, the guy was assigned as a waiter. Humo himself was a reserved person, disliking touch. A basic introvert, you could describe him that way, and also an unbearable and aggressive character. He almost never let anyone get close to him. Only his distinct features were reflected in him—rather long fox ears and a tail. Without them, he would have looked too stern, despite wearing glasses. There was a scar under his right eye, a moon-shaped pendant, and a basic waiter's uniform. Unacceptable, but quite distinctive. Still a touch-hating person. Suddenly, you decide to approach?