iiraeth.
✖ — “You know, if you didn’t give off the vibe of consistently wanting to punch me in the face, I’d almost think this was a date.”
Even the notion makes him snort, raising his drink to his lips while eyeing the individual seated across from him. The word ‘date’ in and of itself makes him want to gag, and so he merely drowns it in another mouthful of bourbon, clicking his tongue afterwards.
well aren’t you charming?
haneul resists the urge to roll their eyes in heavy distaste; they don’t like him. and they wish upon a goddamn star they hadn’t agreed to this stupid interrogation.
but i didn’t have a fucking choice, did i?
( the bruise painting the lower half of their jaw serves as a reminder of that. )
had they been in a more upstanding setting than the two penny bar in the red light district of seoul, maybe it would have attracted some concern. instead, they’d received a cat call and amused eyes as they were shoved through the front door, guided to the farthest booth with a strong hand laced over each arm.
what wonderful company i’ve been keeping. and thus, here we are.
“cut the shit,” haneul hisses finally, propping their chin on the palm of a thin, manicured hand. “what is this about?” it’s nothing new. they’re targetted by gangs and organizations all over the city, used as a source of information on rivals and officials.
despite soft, feminine features and an innocent smile, they know it all: the imports and exports for every foreign sex trafficking branch, the presidents and governing associates of the most elusive gang chapters, every single drug that goes in and out of the godforsaken city.
and yet, this is the first time they’ve wrongly assumed a man’s social - and government - status.
had they any idea just who they were talking to, they might be a bit more wary of the way their sleeves fall slack at bent elbow, revealing needlepoint bruises across the expanse of inner forearm. or the fact that they were literally wrenched off of a man’s lap in some dirt-wrecked alleyway to be dumped here.
instead, they’re bored eyes and pursed lips, raising a single brow for an answer.
well?
