“you’re full of shit, franklynn,” her words were not at all biting, paired with a disbelieving grin and a shake of her head. to think he had the nerve to speak such lies after his umpteenth glass of hard liquor, she was certain he has had a sip of everything they had to offer by then. and then some. “the good friend part is true though,” subjective, “i’m as good as it gets.” it doesn’t stop the the shrug and nonchalance in her expression, highly mocking.
but lethal, lies were. and she almost chokes when he does just that, lie. she coughs ungracefully through a swallow of soju, turning impossibly redder and eyes brimming with tears. “i’m not —” a thump is delivered to her chest courtesy of her closed fist to clear her airways before she attempts to speak again, “i’m not buying that.” there was incredulity in tear-brimmed eyes that watch him, brows furrowing deeper past her wince.
“and i’m not buying you anymore drinks either if you aren’t gonna spill,” a glance to small puddles gathering on the bartop and his clothes, “and not that kind of spilling, no.”
silence is momentary when boksoon was impatient(read: all the damn time). a sigh, defeat on her features and a slump in her posture: precursor to a hint of a whine: “come onnnn,” or perhaps more than a hint of a whine, “i’m not a cop or anything, i swear!”
"Well, well, one instance in which you're wrong. I'll have you know I'm full of alcohol, not shit." Laughing at his own tasteless joke, he let his eyes wander across the bar, taking in the different faces of the people, that were partially hidden by the dim light. Back home, he used to spend a lot of time in places like bars or cafes, sketching the various faces people would make, for practice. Sometimes he missed that. Chuckling at the older woman's words, he raises one eyebrow towards her, chin resting on his hand, "You know, I heard that modesty is one of the greatest virtues of them all."
Calmly and gently thumping her on the back as she choked and handing her a tissue that was lying on the table, he answered, in a tone that his amusement at her reaction. Laughing at her while she was choking half to death just seemed a little too mean, even for him. "That's disappointing, to be honest. And here I was, thinking I was selling some good stuff."
At her words, his hand on her back suddenly stopped, hovering awkwardly in mid-air. He felt betrayed. It was like she pulled the rug from under his feet. He couldn't even make a clever quip about the alcohol he had spilled earlier, since she took the words right out of his mouth. Silence stretched out over the two of them for a couple of minutes, him starting in the distance, a betrayed frown on his face, until the woman slumped over, a whine leaving her lips. That broke him out of his daze and, letting out a small snort, he answered, "That sounds exactly what a cop would say. How do I know you're not just an undercover agent, trying to bust me for all the illegalities and deliquencies which I totally didn't commit."
