Food Court
Kane was just grateful that the aprons work gave out were long. His pants had failed to be done up that morning, again, and the obese liger was forced to just make do with a belt encircling his impressive girth to keep the straining fabric up from the ground. His shirt was also doing a woefully inadequate job at covering up his midsection, a broad band of exposed tan fur encircling nearly four inches of his middle. He had put in the request for a larger uniform over a week ago, when the band had first been pointed out by one of his coworkers, but of course corporate just shot down the request and told him to try again next week; something about requesting too many uniforms per quarter. Kane…