Allen sat with his head resting on the table of the dining hall. He didn't bother eating the pile of food in front of him, which, for the silverette, was usually consumed in seconds. He didn't bother trying to make conversation with the annoyingly upbeat red head at the next table or the sexy black haired Chinese girl sitting across from him, laughing her ass off because the red head had managed to drop his entire lunch in his lap. He didn't bother looking up when he heard the sound of feat approaching his table. He only looked up when he heard a voice growl out:
"Baka Moyashi, you're in my seat."
Allen didn't bother responding to the insult the Japanese teen had just administered. He couldn't get past the man's perfect bone structure and strong jaw line. The way his lips were mashed into a tight line in frustration. The way his T-shirt clung to the contours of his upper body, mapping out his muscular chest and abs. The way his biceps bulged as he crossed his arms over his torso. The way his black blue hair cascaded down his back despite being held back with a rubber band. What stopped Allen in his tracks were the male's eyes. The cobalt blue eyes were like staring into the night sky, getting swallowed hole in the never ending abyss. Allen was mesmerized, and as he gazed into those eyes, a heat started in his stomach and traveled down, down, down.
As Allen was taking in the teenager, the Japanese adolescent had been growing impatient. Instead of his customary grimace, he now wore a look of bloody murder. He was already in a violent mood because of what the Usagi had done that morning, now he was being ignored by some freaking bean sprout. It was unacceptable in his mind.
"Are you going to pull your head out of your ass and answer me you fucking Moyashi?" He spit through clenched teeth.
In a flash, both the red head and the Chinese girl were by his side.
"Kanda, calm down," pleaded the girl.
"Yeah. Come on Yuu –kun, it's not worth it. Just leave the Moyashi alone." The red head put in, foolishly slinging his arm around the lethal samurai.
"Don't. Call. Me. That." Kanda growled, turning his attention away from Allen and towards the unfortunate wannabe hero.
"I'll see you later Lenalee!" he yelled as he sprinted out of the dining hall, closely followed by a homicidal Kanda brandishing a sword he'd pulled from nowhere.
Lenalee let out a small sigh. Then, turning to face Allen, stuck out her hand in greeting.
"I'm Lenalee Lee," She said in a chipper, all is right with the world voice, as if they hadn't just watched a psychotic teen chase someone out of the hall with a sword.
"Allen Walker," Allen replied, cautiously taking her slender hand in his scarred one and shaking it.
Seeing the slightly bemused look on Allen's face, she said, "Don't worry about Lavi, he pisses Kanda off too many times a day for us to truly get worked up about it. Usually it takes him less time to get a reaction out of Kanda, even though he is always vastly overreacting; I actually think he's cutting back." She said with a small laugh.
All Allen could do was nod. This is normal? He thought. What's abnormal if sword welding teenagers is ordinary?