wealth. power. in the grand scheme of things, she finds herself harrowingly bored by the prospect of both. wealth and power do nothing but poison the accepting and the unseeing, feed upon their victims like parasites until nothing remains but an insatiable hunger for more. she has no use for either: then, now, ever.
pick it up. it’s a statement that has her gaze drawing a blank, fingers still yet to cease where they tap out a jilted rhythm against the surface. “is she angry? that he gave her gift away?” won sours quickly at the label that had preceded it, the suggestion that she was some sort of petty thief desperate for a taste of wealth and poorly attained victory. surprise, surprise: the corpse has an ego! her mouth twitches.
“you don’t ask questions.” it’s an observation, one that slips out before she can help herself- she knows their conversation will be short-lived but recklessness encourages her to press on, eyes glinting. “if i’m a thief, what does that make her? it wasn’t hers to begin with. stolen ages ago, really stolen. it’d only been hushed up because she had money. she’s no fuckin’ martyr herself.” and then comes the bitterness, the acidity that makes her own skin crawl. he was powerful, street-smart. but he’d always been too soft for pretty women like her. pretty, corrupted, monstrous women like her.
won wonders how much this girl knows. whether she believes her. or whether she cares. “they’re decent people when you’re worth something- i’m sure you know better than i do. they pay generously, offer more than most could ever afford in their lifetime.” there’s a deliberate pause after that. she waits. silently spells out the next line before them in the subtle quirk of her head. what are you really here for?
then a hand is brushing against her skin and a grimace unfurls, rotten petals on equally rotten flesh. this is a game, no doubt. to take the necklace back would be too lackluster of a job; to hand it without resistance would disappoint them both. this is a game more than anything. (these days, she finds that she’s been playing a little too much.)
“i don’t like violence.” she’s enslaved to it. addicted to the smell of blood and the igniting sparks of pain; she takes violence only to the very edge. but she won’t kill; she remembers too much to do that. “and as much as i’d like to entertain you, i’m not in the mood. but i’m sure some of them-” a jut of the chin towards now-leering men seated at the bar- “-are itching for some action.”
“huh, her?” moment of confusion, for the simple fact that ahyeon didn’t deal about this with a woman. there is also a simple logical reason to that though, one that quickly registers and she’s shrugging, it’s nothing to feel bitter about. it’s all about the hierarchy of things, there’s always the one that’s higher and the underlings who do the dirty jobs. in this case, if the underlings decided to leave said dirty jobs in the hands of someone else, well that’s their choices.
long as it’s done really, the one that’s placed high doesn’t care much. ahyeon too, doesn’t care much. this isn’t about who is doing the right thing and who is doing the wrong thing. who had it first, who took it because it belongs to them, or whatever, this isn’t kindergarten. there’s no mediator in the middle, hell ahyeon’s no fucking here to resolve a conflict or play telephone. “look, i get paid, i take back what i am supposed to be taking, that’s it, it’s nothing personal.” it really isn’t too. some of them tend to go on about the sentimentality of the thing itself. how their shop belonged to their families for years and how they had nothing to pay back because there’s so much going into rent and then other necessities.
again, the sentimentality is something she’s lost on the way to whatever she’s here for. she’s getting a bit bored too, talking it out as if she’s supposed to be bargaining for it, as if this is a choice being given. it isn’t. she’s ready to make that clear see, eyes narrowing and expression drawing shut as she slides her hands in the pocket of her jacket. but that’s cut short, interrupted and she’s still in her spot instead of giving in the direction where the girl’s pointing. there’s no way anyone could know what’s transpiring here, so there are different but good reasons why ahyeon’s not going to get her eyes anywhere but here on the current person she’s facing.
first, she could be looking for a distraction to run away. second, if there are really men behind her, it means whoever hired her didn’t trust her enough to do it by herself. or third, they’re trying to play her. because obviously, this isn’t a sure business. some people will make sure to do anything to shut down any lingering sources, beatings occur, sometimes to the point of a life being taken away for the simple fact that they want to keep your mouth shut. or the last one could be that none of these reasons are even remotely real and she’s just pointing them out because they look suspicious.
a lot of possibilities, which also mean that ahyeon’s growing irritated by the second. neither of these choices sit well with her. it means time is ticking and she’s holding her hand out, palm open and waiting. “then hand it over and there’ll be no entertainment, simple, clean. you can solve your problem with whoever hired me later on, with your own personal time.” if she did it once, reason why ahyeon is here, sure thing she can do it again, right?
