Lyna’s features don’t soften even marginally as the man who clearly thinks himself charming explains with a self-satisfied smile that they were only having a pleasant conversation, that there’s no reason for her to act like this. By that he means she’s interfering with his great plan. By that he means she’s overreacting. Crazy. She’s been called that a lot lately.
“Isn’t that right, Sooyeon?” He tries to lean to the side to peer over Lyna’s shoulder, but she’s quick to mirror his movements and block his view again.
“We’re having a conversation right now, you and me,” she reminds him.
She’s a statue of a woman, with hardened gaze and a petrified smile, which no one but the original artist knows the meaning of and she won’t tell.
A burning anger manifests in his eyes, but she knew that was coming. They tend to react with anger when they don’t get what they want, like children who never learned that things aren’t theirs just because they touched them. Just because they want them.
Patiently, she waits for him to lash out, as she knows he wants to.
Cast your stones. You’ll only ever scratch the surface.
Her own scandal is a weapon she carries with herself everywhere that too many have used against her before. This time, she pulls it first. It’s hers. Why shouldn’t she be able to wield it?
“Haven’t you heard? I’m bad news. You wouldn’t want to make headlines for getting into an argument with me now, would you?”
It’s true that a scandal would undoubtedly affect him less than her, but they both know that she can’t fall much farther right now, and those who don’t have anything to lose are always the scariest.
She’s done talking, so she turns her back to him. It’s rude, sure, but aren’t they long past that point anyways?
“Are you okay?”, she asks Sooyeon instead, her tone infinitely gentler to make up for the fact that she doesn’t quite feel safe enough to back away from her just yet. The last thing she wants is to scare her, too.
Cautiously, as if asking permission to touch her at all, Lyna places a warm hand on Sooyeon’s upper arm.
“Can I take you somewhere? To your manager?”
lyna is a woman alight with the roaring fire of her rage, and beside her, sooyeon feels warmer and warmer with every word out of her mouth, until every ounce of the cold dread that’d gripped her is replaced with anger that’s threatening to boil over. sooyeon sets her jaw, glowering at him with the same, if not more, intensity. don’t touch me ever again-- don’t talk, look, or even exist in my general vicinity, asshole.
there’s an indifference, almost bordering ease, in the way lyna wields her scandal against him, and damn, sooyeon wants to be lyna when she’s grown up. she wonders if the coolness comes with age-- probably not.
the senior sputters at lyna’s perceived rudeness in turning her back on him, and sooyeon has to tamp the urge to blow a raspberry at him down. she asks sooyeon if she’s okay, and shit, so that’s genuine concern. a far cry from the artificial, syrupy sympathy he’d offered. “yeah.”
she can’t resist. “wish i could say it’s been a pleasure working with you, but... i really can’t.” sooyeon doesn’t afford him even a sarcastic smile, instead fixing him with a look like he’s dog poop she’d had the misfortune of stepping on. she’s not quite brave enough yet to stick around for the fallout of that comment, though, and briskly marches off with lyna in tow. when sooyeon’s sure they’re out of sight and earshot, she expels a breath she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding.
“wow, fuck that guy. but like, not like that, because he’d only be so lucky to, but like, oh my god. holy shit.” sooyeon wrings her hands, her nervous energy fighting to find an outlet and finding one in rambled english. “you were so cool, thank you so much, i was so scared, you were so... wow!”
