she’s certain now that she’s feeling the effects of the high, as if she’s on a completely different plane than the one she’d been living on for all of her life. it’s as if every anxiety and problem has seeped out of her through her pores and onto the ground, pooled into a puddle and she’d left it behind, leaving her feeling light-headed but free. her senses feel heightened, like she’s one of those superheroes from the marvel films she enjoys so much, like she can count each and every hair on a person’s head, can smell each individual ingredient in the food at the booths she passes by, can feel every cell working within her body. it’s an incredible and addicting feeling, and it makes her feel alive.
one thing that remains unchange, though, is a heightened sense of self-confidence that may seem a bit over the top to some, but is rightly earned, justly warranted as far as she’s concerned, and it shows in the way she laughs in his face, boldly, but also almost childishly in a way that hardly makes sense but also makes all the sense in the world. she picks up the toy pistol in her hands and it’s probably made out of some kind of synthetic compound or plastic, but it feels like the finest steel in her hands, a real gun, something she’s never actually put her hands on in her life. she holds it up like she’s seen in all those spy movies, pointed up at the sky and close to her face, peering at taeho—who, by the way, is even more striking through this new lens, and it isn’t even fair—through squinted eyes. “oh, i’m not worried,” she says, words dripping with the same kind of cockiness that’s gotten her hate before when she’s streaming. “because you’re not going to have a story like that to tell.”
she then points the toy gun in his direction, firing off an imaginary shot, which she gets scolded for by the booth attended. the strict tone with which he’s said it only sends her into another fit of giggles, one she barely manages to pull herself out as the game starts, shoulders still shaking with mirth as she takes aim. shooting off a toy gun in the real world and shooting off a sniper rifle in a computer generated 3d world are a little different, but she feels laser focused, even when her shots fall a little short, even when she misses more than she thought she would. what’s most surprising of all, though, is that she doesn’t grow frustrated with the results as she can be known to do; instead, she laughs, enjoying the moment in itself than worrying about the outcome. of course, that doesn’t stop her from trying to cheat, hand reaching out to try and push taeho’s gun down and decrease his accuracy. “try and tell that to my subscribers. they’d never believe you!”
except they totally would.
some say confidence is the world’s strongest drug, and with the way she’s acting right now, taeho thinks that might just be true. not that daeun was ever especially reserved or anything, but it seems like the little something they’ve shared was enough to tip the scales over to the next level of blistering self-confidence. to be clear, this is not a bad thing in his books; if anything, it’s the opposite. he loves seeing people in their element, regardless of what extra artificial kick it might’ve taken. most any experience is worth having once, or twice... or maybe a few more times than that. ‘all things in moderation’ is his rule of thumb -- as long as it doesn’t become an debilitating habit!
that being said, his already dilated pupils grow yet a little wider when she turns the gun at him, not in fear but in pleasant surprise at her theatric antics. however the booth attendant, who is quick to berate for their total carelessness, is clearly nowhere as near as amused as taeho personally is. but come on -- it was a toy. it wasn’t going to blow his face off, was it? maybe leave a stinging gash at worst. he belatedly figures that wouldn’t be all that great either. oh well. shaking any remnants of caution or restrain out of his head space, he instead pulls on his acting chops, theatrically clamping a hand over his chest and fake grimaces when she ‘fires’ the imaginary shot at him point blank. maybe he was more ‘fun’ when high.
soon the game begins, and a smug grin settles onto his lips when he realizes his predictions are true. as he had hoped, she’s nowhere as sharp with her aim in this state. nevermind the fact that a carnival game wasn’t equivalent to gaming -- he’d hold it over her head while he could. “damn, you’re washed,” he taunts in between a chain of relaxed chuckles, finding it easier to laugh now more so than usual. but perhaps he celebrates too soon, because she’s straight up cheating; so obnoxiously so that he’s not even mad. he fires off the rest of his shots, and to nobody’s surprise, doesn’t hit much at all. who won? he doesn’t know, doesn’t really care. he just finds comfort in how he’s not the only one finding such immense, juvenile joy from their mutual incompetence. on the other hand, he can feel the judgement oozing out of every spectator around them, and he doesn’t intend on letting that killing his vibe. “alright cheater, let’s get out of here. but let’s be clear — you definitely didn’t win.” upon making his point, he returns the toy guns back to place before steering her away to who know’s what’s next in their evening of chaotic antics.
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