hangyul has finally, after hours of wandering this stupidly large pop-up bazaar, found the perfect gift for his mother. it practically screams at him from across the street, dangling on a hanger behind the saleswoman, and he imagines his mother, a beautiful and cozy lady, wearing the scarf in the chilly mornings as she sets off for work. he crosses the street immediately, speed-walking towards the stall and asking how much for it.
and in the middle of the interaction, the soft scarf just inches from his fingertips, it’s snatched away. that’s not how this is supposed to go, he thinks. there’s a silent agreement in life that whoever sees something first, is the one who it’s given to. hangyul doesn’t shop very often, but that seems to be the case every time he has gone out searching for something. it’s a pretty fair assumption, and the only logical expectation, so why is this happening to him, exactly?
“hey,” he calls out, voice gruff. the girl who’s interrupted his shopping experience is already running her mouth, begging the seller for a chance at the one-of-a-kind scarf. all hangyul can do is balk at her for a split second, before repeating himself, a little louder and much more aggressive. “hey! what the fuck, that’s mine!” and he snatches it right back from her grip, holding it to his chest as if it’s oh-so precious to him (which it is, if it’s for his mother) when he doesn’t even own it yet.
right, this will seal the deal. “how much was it, again?” he fingers through the crisp bills in his wallet, attention back on the seller. maybe the stranger has gotten the hint that the sale is already happening, so give up and get out of here.
the simple thought of her behavior coming across as somewhat rude and the only regret she might have felt towards it flies out the window the second she hears his first ‘hey’.
ryujin registers it, tucks it away in the back of her mind, the same spot that is in charge of holding whatever information she deems annoying that she doesn’t necessarily need to live a good life, and ignores it and the guy without batting an eyelash. after all you’d think he would get the message and just walk away like any sensible person would, right? wrong. he doesn’t leave and instead says it again, that irritating word meant to what? get her attention? shoo her away maybe? scare her into submission? as if!
if anything it makes her even more dead set on annoying the living crap out of him. the seller stops talking midway her sentence, the price information she sought after with so much energy getting lost somewhere between her rosy lips and ryujin’s ears. the girl is entirely too focused on the asshole snatching the scarf out of her hands in the first place to even register the woman’s voice at all. she shoots daggers through her eyes at him, frown perched in place between her eyebrows. a myriad of curses go through her head in that moment alone, each one of them more colorful than the other and she wonders, even if for just a fraction of a second, if she punches him will she get in trouble?
“bold words from someone who actually doesn’t own shit yet, asshole.” ryujin doesn’t make a move to leave. if anything she steps right into his personal space, pretending to grab at his wallet to distract him as the scarf finds its way back around her palm. and then she tugs on it, hard, hopefully hard enough to snatch it right from his nose when he’s not paying attention.
there is a certain kind of satisfaction on ryujin’s face, her lips curling upwards in a smile akin to that of her brother’s favorite alice in wonderland character, the cheshire cat. with her features it looks slightly less evil than she intends it to but nonetheless, her point has to get across somehow. and who knows, maybe it will look charming enough to the weirdo that it will convince him to drop the rude, or at least tone it down a notch. “listen, i didn’t spend all this time walking around and getting bored out of my mind to leave empty handed. just give me the scarf and go find something else! i’m not leaving here without it okay?”
