4chan had finally found a reason to venture outside, and it was in the form of a bright white t-shirt, emblazoned with a smoldering cigarette, and the word FAG, in big bold letters right across his chest. It was the newest addition to his wardrobe, and it practically demanded a public viewing. Slapping on a black jacket, and a black pair of pants, he grabbed his bicycle, and set out to do...something. Whatever that was.
But first, coffee. A wired 4chan was a happy one. And the little coffee shop doing the street was perfect- and one of the only ones that still stood to tolerate him on the premises. It didn't take long for him to start tying his bike to the bike rack, appreciating the lunchtime crowd which all seemed to be looking straight at him. No matter. He adjusted the crotch of his jeans- as contents had shifted during delivery, stuck his tongue out, and pushed through the door, ready to order some mind-numbing, sugary abomination that would keep him awake for the next few days at least.
A white chocolate mocha and a little doughnut found their way into a cup, and a little baggie, respectfully. People were staring- he had FAG written in huge letters across his chest, and a creamstick doughnut in hand. Well- shortly in his mouth, with zero table manners to go with the zero fucks given.
And then he noticed someone seated at a table over- and gave him an acknowledging nod. "Problem?"