It was hardly as though Urushihara didn't like MgRonald's. In fact, he was quite fond of it. However, by the time Maou got the already leftover food home, it was cold and soggy, the fries inedible and the bun hard and the lettuce wilted.

That was fine now and again, but lately it had been the only real consistency in Urushihara's diet.

He got up, leaving the food and moving to the closet. He didn't have many clothes, but going to the forest in shorts seemed stupid. He slipped out of them to change into his jeans, mumbling.