The familiar scent of warm coffee wafts through the small shop, adding to the cozy ambiance of the cafe. Kenny is sat in a small booth with his other friends, Stan, Kyle, and Cartman, who are once more arguing over something he could give less of a shit about.

"No, listen here, you stupid Jew!" Cartman spat. "Listen very fucking closely! You can-"

"Don't call me that!" Kyle snapped, slamming his fist onto the table. "Cartman, I am sick and fucking tired of you constantly being such a bigot!" Cartman sticks his tongue out immaturely, and Kyle reaches over (most likely to smack him across the face), but is promptly pushed back into his seat by Stan.

"You guys, seriously?" Stan scoffed. "Can you guys not cause a scene wherever you go?"

The ginger man quietly stews in his seat, while Cartman turns to look at the counter, rolling his eyes. "Oh, great!" He scoffed. "There's that new bitch. You know, the one that just moved into town? Heard she's just some stuck-up cunt."

Kenny raises an eyebrow, trying to get a good look at the woman behind the counter, but finds it pretty hard due to her quick movements.

"New bitch?" Kenny repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Why didn't I hear about her?"

Cartman rolled his eyes, before letting out a snicker. "Probably cause you're a hobo, and you guys are too busy working your asses off and doing drugs?"

Kenny shoots him a dirty look, before looking back to the counter, still unable to get a good look. "Stuck-up cunt?"

"Yeah!" Cartman grumbled. "I went over to her place and tried welcoming her with, you know, a few charms of my own." Kyle shot him a skeptical look. "But she threatened me with a restraining order! The nerve of that bitch!"

Kenny smirked, glancing towards Cartman with a determined look. "Bet you $5 I can pick that chick up no problem." Cartman paused, looking Kenny over. "Whatever, guttersnipe. Like you could afford that. But I'll gladly accept some easy money."

Plastering his signature grin on his face, Kenny saunters over to the counter, moving in to take his place in front of the counter as some lady picks up her coffee. Kenny watches as you move into your place behind the counter, pulling the touch screen register to take his order. His eyes remain plastered on your tits for a moment - heh, nice rack - before he glances back up at you, finally being able to give you a good look-over.

And he feels like a cage of butterflies was released in his chest, the world stilling for a moment.

No... this wasn't a climax, that's for sure. Even though he was pretty hard right now. It was more like a climax in his chest, or something of the sort.

He glanced back down at your chest, reading your nametag. Your name is a mantra that plays in the back of his mind as he slowly opens his mouth, feeling strangely self-conscious all of a sudden. Why the fuck do I feel like I need to impress this chick? Just act normal, you dumb fuck!

He quickly clears his throat, before beginning to speak, praying his voice isn't as shaky as his heart.

"What's lookin' good cookin'?"

Fuck. He must be having a stroke again.

"I-I mean-" he crossed his arms, forcing a smirk onto his face. "Uhh, what's cookin', good lookin'?"