‘doing harm’
@syxjongsuk
“please remember you’re supposed to just help me out with the names of people, not pretend to be some tiny little gorram voice in my head telling me what’s right or wrong.” jaewon huffs. “i don’t have a fucking conscience, i have no need for one.” especially not with his line of work. his entire aesthetic and operation has been mostly centered around his capability to ignore all morality and justice in the universe, maneuver his way avoiding anything good or well-alighted. the only light he’ll allow in his breadth is the electromagnetic radiation of photons, pinpointed into sharp edges, blades hot enough to scorch the ground beneath his feet, to blacken the skin on his palms. he is only here for the scratch, only here for the damnation, the sin, the thrill of the verse before it all goes supernova. he has no stomach for anything less.
the last thing he needs right now, atop the stress of the plans, the heist up around his ears, chained to every inch of his coat hem, is jongsuk whining and bitching about every little action jaewon makes. he knows he’s not the calmest person to keep tabs on, understands that he can be frustrating and unhealthy and burning, his gold eyes boring holes in everywhere he looks, but he didn’t allow jongsuk onto his ship, onto his crew, onto his life, just to put up with his bickering. jongsuk has a job, has a purpose, and ought to fulfill that purpose well. beyond that, jaewon is likely to knock his head off if he heightens the strain of the evening. shit is already too taunt.
he adjusts the tiny little microphone in his ear, the comm static making him wince for a moment before it calms down. “are you picking up my signal?”