hi! i’m hiro (he/they, 25), bringing my favorite and personal shoujo boy to life in the form of sang wook (wookie), an overworked insomniac who aspires to do good just like his mother but is also simultaneously exhausted of—well, everything. for easier communication, please feel free to add me on dc to plot (id: eatsuomis). i look forward to plotting with everyone! (please like this post if you want me to come bother you to plot.)
you can see his immaculate(ly masked) bio on this link (ver. 8/6/2025) — where he looks mostly put together and perfect — his intro post here, and then an unraveled tl;dr below.
other links: connections / wanted plots / pinterest
wook is a 4th year undergrad doing a double major in history and sociology. he aspired to become a prosecutor (like his mom), planning to get a juris doctor directly after graduation and has an entire resume to back him up—while he’s still completely and perfectly on track, wook isn’t entirely sure about his future anymore.
with his advocacies primarily revolving around children’s rights, access to public health, and social justice, wook has been a staple volunteer since he turned 18 to various organizations within and outside of university. aside from that, he’s also establishing himself as a competent researcher for the same causes over the last couple of years.
his parents had him very young at 21. they divorced when he was 3 and his mom became the sole provider of the household. for a couple of years prior to his mom getting her prosecutor license, they scraped by slowly, but certainly—with his mom juggling between jobs and wook jumping from household to household (friends and relatives) until he was old enough (7) to stay by himself. hence, wook is very independent, easily takes on the role of caring for others, and finds it difficult to depend on others.
his mom eventually becomes a licensed prosecutor and life becomes a little easier. they move from jeju to seoul when he’s 12 and she remarries when he’s in high school. he gets a new stepdad (doctor) and two younger half-sisters (13 and 9, respectively). although welcome to the change and gets along well with them, wook has never really quite seen himself as someone that fits into this new, perfect family.
although he didn’t actively seek these positions himself, wook has found himself in various positions of leadership ever since he was young. some recent and notable positions include being vice president of the student gov’t in his junior year and the president of polaris in his senior year (this year).
his burnout doesn’t unravel all at once, it’s collapsing into itself slowly and becomes more and more apparent only when someone looks hard enough. the difficult thing about having done something so long is that it also becomes difficult to just easily cut yourself off from it. and the difficult thing about working hard your entire life is that you never really quite learn how to half-ass anything either. so while wook is exhausted, his strong sense of duty keeps him from actually ever allowing himself to breathe; he has to be responsible for all his commitments. even if he doesn’t know or is uncertain of the direction of his life, his current roles dictate the direction of his life for the foreseeable future anyway.
in some ways, wook has been trying to find exits for things he thinks he can quit from without causing anyone harm. others, he believes he can still push through with and finish (or can he?).
wook, conceptualized
gentle laughter, a soothing breeze on the first day of spring, the stillness of a lake, the strength of a pillar that never falters, an open door, orpheus always bound for tragedy (someone who will always turn back to look), always waiting, the steady understanding that the actions that others take towards/against him are a direct reflection of them and not necessarily his, the rawness of unconditional love like the inevitable arrival of ocean waves against shore (one of fives names you can always name to love you without question no matter what), an unwavering distrust of promises but whose existence is a vow itself that he would always follow through, the accumulation of loose, broken rocks at the bottom of a mountainside (the inexorability of one's fall, quiet and sure).
"because love as i know it doesn't try to rescue you. it waits for you at the edge of the fire. and when you crawl out, smoke in your lungs, it doesn't ask what burned. it just says—i'm glad you made it back."
come plot with me? wook is everything, everywhere all at once jkjk i swear he’s nice, he’s cuddly, he’s good! i’d love to see some dramatic ass plots or solemn ones, cute, sol, comedy ones are fine too ㅋㅋㅋ see you!
hey, guys :tired_emoji: sorry for not being active recently, work killed me when i got back from hk (and i also crashed out the whole week with pcd (hahaha...)) then i got sick and it's all going downhill from here. i'll get to all of you and hopefully connect with more people very soon. gomen.
hey, guys! i was hoping to get to replies (dms and threads) within these past few days but work has been terribly busy. anyway, i'll be (semi-impulsively) flying out to see kai (:angelPandayay:) over the weekend so replies might be very slow and i might see you monday onwards instead. get to you later!
if you ever want me to reach out to plot, please feel free to like my pinned post anytime. otherwise, feel free to dm me directly on tumblr or dc (id: eatsuomis).
wanted plots/connections
contrary to popular belief (aka everyone not knowing due to this little fucker actively hiding it), wook overworking and Not Sleeping™️ actually has its consequences! occurred more when he was younger, he used to frequent the hospital (on a personal concern basis) enough that a bunch of the nurses and staff actually know him. now he’s there only quarterly… or something. whether a childhood friend who stumbled upon the fact or a friend he’d gotten to know due to it (perhaps someone interning in/working in/owns the hospital?), wook and that friend are the only ones who know.
someone he looks up to, probably an older muse. this person is someone he (almost) always listens to because he believes this person is reliable, even moreso than him, and an overall great person. they could be a mentor figure; if they're a childhood friend (from jeju), they could have been his first love. (dynamics may include issues that arise from putting someone on a pedestal; potentially manipulative behavior, or; a generally wholesome dynamic)
wook has something you might refer to as roommate trauma (thanks, joon! </3 (it isn’t that bad)) after having been reassigned dorms for junior year, this is the second (and last) year around that you’re rooming with him. determined to not be a Burden, wook has essentially pretended to play dead and is probably The Best Roommate in B612™️ if you’re looking for peace and quiet. be his roommate?
someone who sees wook as a rival/competitor. wook is a very competent person… because he feels the inherent need to be (solely for his mother’s sake because he never wants her to worry even when all other facets of his life are probably worry-inducing. but hey, he’s good at hiding it so wtv). because of how intently you notice wook’s actions, you’re the first one to notice when he starts pressing on the breaks.
after having listened to a group of buskers play for a couple years now (about seven years, if we’re counting), you’re a new member (either a solo artist to the roster or taking on a new position in one of the bands) who’s surprised to see wook as part of the crowd and also friend to pretty much almost all of the other buskers you’re with (it’s almost like he’s a member himself).
he rescued your cat, or your house, or your family, or your friends, or you from a fire. consequences ensue.
having known wook to at least have 2 to 3 years of work experience as a barista, you take advantage of this fact and find opportunities to have wook make things for you. (and maybe convince him to stop drinking his coffee black himself.)
wook, having attended various international research conferences and as president of polaris himself, has always been an honorary member to the administration that welcomes international students. if you’re one of them, there’s a very high likelihood that wook’s one of the very first few people you became acquainted with outside of the international students org.
wook, sungmin, and micah (who i would personally dub the polaris golden trio (or the saja boys, angel ver.)) have worked very hard to make sure that polaris is a great place for everyone. wook will greet all polaris members with a warm welcome.
family friends? people who are associated with his mom (a prosecutor and legal consultant) or with his stepdad (surgeon). or if we want to step it up, his actual dad (undetermined).
connections that further explore/worsen/soothe his burnout
wook’s default is to always take care of people and not the other way around so you’ll probably rarely see us offering connections in the outset that go for that opposing dynamic. it’s not a question of like or dislike but the concept of someone even having to look after him is pretty alien so he might even be averse from it. but a connection like that would be very welcomed!
the north star and those who drive it forward
with @dearparadigm
present, polaris’ student lounge
it’s quiet in the polaris student lounge. the room is bare save for the two members sitting across each other on the large meeting table. the noise in the room mostly originating from the running a/c, the light scratching of pen against paper, and the occasional tapping of fingers against a keyboard.
“sungmin,” wook breaks the silence gently, sliding over his notebook towards the younger without hesitation. the action has become almost routinary over the years, if it’d been anybody else in front of him, wook wouldn’t have been as forthright. “could i get your opinion here?”
“remember when i brought up removing one of the older projects from this year’s scheduled roster?” he continues, pointing at a certain crossed-out piece of information. it used to detail one of those time-honored polaris traditions—of which all polaris members had once gone through before they actually graduated from yeonhwa. even as he brings it up now, wook is still in the middle of defending its removal from the roster before their alumni. even so. wook has asserted and continues to assert that just because something has always existed doesn’t mean that it always has to, not when it’s proven to be less value-adding than other potential pursuits.
wook lifts his head and surveys the younger kindly, patiently. even now, sungmin must know what this is—this careful but certain act of wook stepping back, slowly handing him the reins and trusting him to drive their direction forward, early as it was. they’ve pored over these matters for a number of years—the two of them side-by-side while everyone else had come and gone. and so, above anyone else, wook trusts no one better than he does the younger, “did you find any time to think up possible new options like i asked?”
with @retronaughts
dabin's apartment, early evening
they're sitting across from each other at dabin's kitchen table, not speaking. neither of them have said a single word in probably fifteen minutes now - the conversation had died when dabin had started getting irritable. he wonders if wook feels the silence like he does, but he doesn't ask. he'd told his google home to play kevin abstract's blush album a couple minutes ago. they're halfway through h-town now, but if you ask dabin, it's not really helping.
there's a puzzle in the works on the table. barely started, still nothing but a half-finished perimeter. both halves of the box are pushed to the side, face-down. they're looking for edge pieces, slowly moving everything deemed currently unimportant from one half of the box to the other. it's a surprisingly tedious task.
the song ends, track three starts. "i'm looking for pieces that have this... orange line in them," he offers, more interested in breaking the silence than receiving help. still, help would be nice. he shows wook an example piece, then looks at his side of the table, searching selfishly for anything that might match. anything he can put together before wook can, just to steal a little bit of his success.
"... so if you find any, you can just give them to me."
of all things constant and familiar, wook's most frequent companion has always been silence — it more often feels like a reprieve from the hustle and bustle of the city while occasionally also feeling like a deafening reminder of his selfishly-imposed solitude. in spite of it, wook always extends his hand towards each form of silence with grace — embracing it for what it is and what it offers.
but this one... is novel. this silence hangs in the air like punishment, one wook is uncertain what for. splinter. he stares at the puzzle pieces in front of him, pretending that he's actually able to distinguish one from the other while actively recalling the conversation between him and dabin that had just died off—wondering what it was he might've said wrong this time, what invisible line he'd unwittingly crossed. he refrains from looking up, eyes determinedly focused on the puzzle pieces (all of them are blue, blue, blue, as he is), stops himself from fidgeting by clutching the single piece he'd been holding in his hand for about a minute or two now like a lifeline, refrains from crossing that—
two-a-days keep me straight, i pray you'll come runnin' back to me
wook exhales as dabin breaks the silence, lifts his head. he doesn't even remember holding his breath. he looks at the piece that dabin holds up briefly and almost like a prerequisite to solving the puzzle, the next moment wook looks down, the pieces are clear and distinct before his eyes. "hold on, i'll look for them," his mouth lifts into a gentle smile as he earnestly picks every single orange lined-piece he sees and pushes it closer for dabin to take as he pleases. splinter. "i think the one you're holding might be looking to be affixed to this one in particular." he continues quietly, laying down the last orange piece before dabin.
would you run away if i go? …..would you run away if i-
when he looks back down, he remembers what they're building, remembers the quiet way dabin had pushed the box towards him after he'd settled into dabin's apartment as though the act itself wasn't anything considerable or important. but wook knows the picture that's supposed to come together, knows that the puzzle itself can't be anything else but custom-made, specifically tailored after something that wook had only mentioned to him once or twice in passing, formed into a game that they would both appreciate.
quietly, he falls back into focus, synchronizing almost routinely with dabin to complete the edges of the puzzle and work further in. this was how it worked. splinter. dabin pushes and wook backs away with a step or two or fifteen or fifty, dabin pulls and wook walks forward with a step or two or fifteen or fifty. there's no other part to the story. the next track plays, the lilt of the singer's voice familiar solely due to the list of artists wook gets to listen to whenever he's with dabin. he takes his nth tentative step forward. "is this a new album?"
connections (bare bones for now, proper descriptions for everyone later)
positive
song hera (ex, high school sweetheart) — his first friend in seoul and his ex-girlfriend, they broke up right before they entered yeonhwa. he adored her, adores her—haved loved her from the moment he’d met her and loves her still, even if said affection now comes in a different form. they’re better friends than lovers and have always been so.
han garam (younger sister figure) — met through lucas. the third of his siblings, though neither on paper nor blood. he’d protect her from anything even at his own expense.
kang minhyun (childhood friend) — a very old friend from jeju. in discussion.
liu lucas (close friend) — one of his closer friends, he first met lucas after saving/rescuing him. wook's doors are always open for whenever lucas needs him. as one of lucas' closest friends, wook is privy to a lot of things he keeps close to his heart, which lends him a position of both the privilege to be so close and a shackle to never get too close lest he flee.
ahn dabin (close friend) — one of his closer friends, he first met dabin during freshman year—assisting him with his companion project, certain that it would also be very helpful for his youngest sister. over the years, they'd kept in touch save for when wook had been in the military. nowadays, it’s a positive relationship only because wook doesn’t perceive it as otherwise. wook is neither disillusioned by time nor affection, he just truly cares for dabin.
kang sungmin (friend, protégé of sorts) — wook has taken sungmin under his wing, certain that he's capable of great things. around sungmin, wook is allowed some reprieve, a space to breathe amid all that's still left to do.
han micah (friend) — seemingly cut from the same cloth, micah and wook get along because of their similar values. wook worries for him quite a bit, though, deeming him the occasional hazard to himself and usually goes out of his way to ensure micah's still well.
kim miyeon (friend) — a friend, they tried going on a single date once—only for it to turn positively disastrous. it's made them good friends. in discussion.
wang shiyu (friend) — shiyu's idea of hard work and general disposition hugely contrasts his. but in wook's opinion, he isn't necessarily one to dictate what that must look like. surprisingly, they get along pretty well. in discussion.
negative
...plenty of them are moving here soon. trust.
neutral
park minjoon (former roommate, not-bff) — his roommate during sophomore year. they got along well enough, although joon would likely never admit so. joon shows up whenever wook calls, so even to this day (wook forgot), he's wook's emergency contact. after wook was reassigned dorm rooms and joon never explained why, wook has assumed it's because joon filed a complaint behind his back and wanted him gone.
dining pleasantries and a bit of (plenty of) warmth
with @heracules
present, tteok shop
wook and hera weren’t the type to follow after patterns. one lunch could occur halfway across town—to a new restaurant that one of them might’ve come across and wanted to try out but never really got to, or a dinner could be across the street from their old high school—where the old owner knows their exact order to the dot on the i’s and once in a while asks when they plan to marry (the both of them having gotten too tired to deny the claim), or brunch on some random dining place they’d seen the day of the actual meetup.
busy as she is (and has always been), hera is the one unpredictable variable in his life that he allows to drive him around as she pleases.
the one they’re going to this time is a place his younger sister had recommended after hearing that hera wanted to go to a good tteok shop in the city. (thirteen year olds know everything.)
seol, thirteen years old and half his height, impatiently pulls wook forward as he laughs—”we’re already so late, oppa. you can’t keep unnie waiting!”
“and whose fault is that?” he asks in turn, smile tilted teasingly, knowing full well that the only reason hera had gotten there ahead of them was solely because he’d gotten stuck waiting for seol herself—prettying herself up for the prettiest girl she’s ever seen. her words, not his—though he wouldn’t necessarily disagree.
wook.
running a little late. sorry. be there in 10.
sent 9:10 am.
seol wanted to come with.
hope you don’t mind.
sent 9:11 am.
[wook sent a picture]
seollie.
sent 9:15 am.
give me an additional 5 minutes.
sent 9:15 am.
the shameless impatience he’d seen from seol vanishes the moment they’re in front of the shop—her stance transitioning from pulling forward to pulling backward. her eyes flicker uncertainly as she gazes up at wook with an—”wait, are you sure she wouldn’t mind that i tagged along? i don’t mind walking back and just going home. oh my god, does she even remember me?”
“she’d probably rather see you than me.” he says, grinning as he instinctively raises his hand to ruffle her hair before deciding not to—she’d spent so long styling it, before pulling her into the store where he immediately spots her.
spring has come to pass and summer has arrived. this is the first time wook is seeing hera in person in months. she’s always come and gone like this—with wook patiently waiting for her to simply appear and say hello again.
seol trails behind him, timid as she was, and wook gently knocks on the table with a cheeky smile. “hey there, stranger, is this seat taken?”
look at you, look at everything you will never have.
self-paragraph, where wook struggles with the idea of being visible and loved.
setting: age fourteen, year 2015.
tw/s: (beginnings of a) panic attack
10PM. it's what's displayed on the clock in the living room when wook enters the household. at this time of night, wook would typically be alone—his mom unable to clock out early enough due to all the work that needed to be done, or doing pro-bono for people who don't have the same means as them to obtain the justice they deserve.
wook gets it. he truly does. he's been living this reality since he was seven, after all.
tonight, however, his mother is there. home smells like his mother's rare home-cooked meals, the front porch is bare, save for the slippers he slips on, because for once, his mother is there to use hers. this situation isn't like clockwork, wook does not have and have never had the luxury to get used to this—his life doesn't consist of one where he gets to go to the kitchen every night to give his mom a warm hug or a quiet welcome. but he wants to, he would typically want to—because wook doesn't need habits to love his mom, because it's so incredibly simple to just love her the way he imagines he could. right?
"hey, honey," she says, peering out of the kitchen to give him a warm smile while he takes off his shoes—he hadn't noticed he had stopped, he doesn't know how long he's been standing there, "how was school?"
in turn, he gives her a weak smile. "good," he pauses, smiles a little wider as he traverses the hall towards the kitchen to give her a hug, "good, mom. how was yours?"
"we'd just closed a case, so i have more time. i figured i'd go home early and cook both of us a meal," she replies, turning back to the counter to stir the pot. "why don't you go and change, son?"
he stands there for a while, taking in the fact that his mom has just welcomed him home. he can't get used to this. and responds, "okay." okay.
he doesn't register that he stumbles a little when he gets to his room, foot tripping just slightly that the event fails to do him any harm, keeping him standing. his bag is lain, has fallen, has been thrown somewhere and wook's hands are trembling, shaking as he grips his study table. and there's too much, so much on the table that it frustrates him, so he pushes them all to the ground—his books, his pens, his folders—so that the table comes away empty. so that there's nothing else to see but emptiness.
he keeps standing there for a long moment, mind blank, and is only taken out of his stupor when he feels droplets of water on his hands and… oh, he's crying. he chuckles a little as he lifts his hands and comes away with more tears.
wook isn't sure what it was he was crying about, really.
"oh, honey," having intended to call on him, his mother spots him where he is. his usually immaculate room is a mess, all his things are on the floor and he stands right at the center, crying like a child. briefly, wook wonders if she could be so kind as to be angry at him, at what he did, at what he's done (at what he has failed and will always fail to become). instead, she moves forward and hugs him. at his age, wook is already so much taller, so much bigger than her and it's funny, the way he feels so small in her arms regardless.
when wook reciprocates with trembling hands, he says, "i've been talking to dad," she keeps quiet, "because i," a pause. he doesn’t know why he’s saying all of this, why he stumbles through and why this is what comes out (it’s the issue and it isn’t all at the same time), "because i miss him. and, and he's hurt you and us and have left us behind and i," her hug tightens (and wook wishes it didn't), "i still miss him more days than i wish i didn't."
"mom, why do people tell you they love you and then leave you behind?" he wishes she had the answer. he wishes that she could have pulled away, looked into his eyes and explained to him what he has ever done wrong in his past life and in this life to warrant the ache he was feeling in his chest.
there should be something. there must have been something he'd done. he wishes he could tear away at his chest and find the answers there. he wishes she would get angry at him, blame him, hurt him, tell him that he was so difficult to love—which was why no one could stay. he wishes she would stop holding him so gently and admit to him that wook was the biggest mistake she'd ever made. (he wishes she would stop being gentle if she was always going to be everyone else’s saving grace but his.)
it would have been so much easier.
except she doesn't. instead, she holds him closer with gentle hands and cries into his arms and says ‘i love you, i love you, i love you, it's you and me against the world, remember?’ and wook nods, he nods, he remembers nodding. he remembers hugging her back, tightly, ‘yeah, mom. yes, you and me.’
he's heard people say before that crying helps clear your eyes, your mind—allows you to let go of emotions buried in your chest. there must be something wrong with him, then, because wook feels just as confined as he's always been. there is no liberation, no clarity, only heaviness, only wet hands, only wishing she'd reacted differently.
when she pulls away, she has a very familiar, earnest smile on her face, "i'll go and get dinner ready. come out once you've changed out of your clothes, okay?" he gives her a small smile in return, nodding. "okay." okay.
AKA The Ex-Activist — Used to be on fire for causes, now just burned out.
Birthdate & age: December 24, 2000 (24)
School year: 4th year undergraduate
Program: Sociology, History (BA)
Clubs: Polaris (President), Red Cross, Debate
Housing: B612 Building
Please refer to our student handbook for any questions!
Introduction
> setting: age sixteen, year 2015.
> tw/s: (beginnings of a) panic attack
10PM. it's what's displayed on the clock in the living room when wook enters the household. at this time of night, wook would typically be alone—his mom unable to clock out early enough due to all the work that needed to be done, or doing pro-bono for people who don't have the same means as them to obtain the justice they deserve.
wook gets it. he truly does. he's been living this reality since he was seven, after all.
tonight, however, his mother is there. home smells like his mother's rare home-cooked meals, the front porch is bare, save for the slippers he slips on, because for once, his mother is there to use her slippers. this situation isn't like clockwork, wook does not have and have never had the luxury to get used to this—his life doesn't consist of one where he gets to go to the kitchen every night to give his mom a warm hug or a quiet welcome. but he wants to, he would typically want to—because wook doesn't need habits to love his mom, because it's so incredibly simple to just love her the way he imagines he could. right?
"hey, honey," she says, peering out of the kitchen to give him a warm smile while he takes off his shoes--he hadn't noticed he had stopped, he doesn't know how long he's been standing there, "how was school?"
in turn, he gives her a weak smile. "good," he pauses, smiles a little wider as he traverses the hall towards the kitchen to give her a hug, "good, mom. how was yours?"
"we'd just closed a case, so i have more time. i figured i'd go home early and cook both of us a meal," she replies, turning back to the counter to stir the pot. "why don't you go and change, son?"
he stands there for a while, taking in the fact of his mother having just welcomed him home. (he can't get used to this.) and responds, "okay."
he doesn't register that he stumbles a little when he gets to his room, foot tripping just slightly that the event fails to push him to the floor. his bag is lain (has fallen, has been thrown) somewhere and wook's hands are trembling, shaking as he grips his study table. and there's too much, so much on the table that it frustrates him, so he pushes them all to the ground—his books, his pens, his folders—so that the table comes away empty. so that there's nothing else to see but emptiness.
he stands there for a long moment, mind blank, and is only taken out of his stupor when he feels droplets of water on his hands and… oh, he's crying. he chuckles a little as he lifts his hands and comes away with more tears.
wook isn't sure what it was he was crying about, really.
"oh, honey," having intended to call on him, his mother spots him where he is. his usually immaculate room is a mess, all his things are on the floor and he stands right at the center, crying like a child. briefly, wook wonders if she could be so kind as to be angry at him, at what he did, at what he's done (at what he has failed and will always fail to become). instead, she moves forward and hugs him. at his age, wook is already so much taller, so much bigger than her and it's funny, the way he feels so small in her arms regardless.
when wook reciprocates with trembling hands, he says, "i've been talking to dad," she keeps quiet, "because i," a pause. he doesn’t know why he’s saying all of this, why he stumbles through and why this is what comes out (it’s the issue and it isn’t all at the same time), "because i miss him. and, and he's hurt you and us and have left us behind and i," her hug tightens (and wook wishes it didn't), "i still miss him more days than i wish i didn't."
"mom, why do people tell you they love you and then leave you behind?" he wishes she had the answer. he wishes that she could have pulled away, looked into his eyes and explained to him what he has ever done wrong in his past life and in this life to warrant the ache he was feeling in his chest.
there should be something. there must have been something he'd done. he wishes he could tear away at his chest and find the answers there. he wishes she would get angry at him, blame him, hurt him, tell him that he was so difficult to love—which was why no one could stay. he wishes she would stop holding him so gently and admit to him that wook was the biggest mistake she'd ever made. (he wishes she would stop being gentle if she was always going to be everyone else’s saving grace but his.)
it would have been so much easier.
except she doesn't. instead, she holds him closer with gentle hands and cries into his arms and says ‘i love you, i love you, i love you, it's you and me against the world, remember?’ and wook nods, he nods, he remembers nodding. he remembers hugging her back, tightly, ‘yeah, mom. yes, you and me.’
he's heard people say before that crying helps clear your eyes, your mind—allows you to let go of emotions buried in your chest. there must be something wrong with him, then, because wook feels just as confined as he's always been. there is no liberation, no clarity, only heaviness, only wet hands, only wishing she'd reacted differently.
when she pulls away, she has a very familiar, earnest smile on her face, "i'll go and get dinner ready. come out once you've changed out of your clothes, okay?" he gives her a small smile in return, nodding. "okay."
