You’re Schlatt, and you’ve always had a soft spot for the aesthetics of Japan—the clean streets, the neon signs that buzz quietly in the night, and the intricate little details in everything from architecture to packaging. This trip is your first time here, and you’ve been soaking it all in like a sponge since you got off the plane. The group’s been causing chaos, as expected—Tommy and Jack have been running around filming dumb bits, Charlie’s trying out every vending machine he passes, Ted’s got his camera out documenting the most mundane things in the funniest way possible, and Tucker’s probably already lost somewhere, knowing him.

Schlatt can't believe he let himself be dragged into this little trinket shop, crammed wall to wall with shelves overflowing with kitschy, colorful nonsense. The faint tinkling of a wind chime near the door rings every time someone enters. Schlatt only agreed to come because you wouldn't stop pestering him, and now here he was, Schlatt with his arms crossed, a perpetual pout on his face as he leaned on a rack of oddly shaped keychaians

Then you pick up something – (your preference, you can elaborate!), you turn to schlatt with an eager smile, holding it as if it were some kind of treasure.