#*j: reply.

[flxwersdance-blog]

Coffee!

MY MUSE WORKS AT STARBUCKS. SEND ME “COFFEE!” TO SEE WHAT TERRIBLE NAME/MISSPELLING MY MUSE WILL WRITE ON YOUR CUP.  

feat. Jooyeon, self-proclaimed Barista Badass who probably got bored one day and showed up to a cafe dressed in their uniform and claiming she was the new manager corporate sent over.

-- “I know, right?” she exclaimed, chatting away animatedly with her phone in one hand, the other hand lazily resting on the counter. It was quiet and slow in the cafe, with it being off-peak hours. It was more reason why Jooyeon even showed up dressed in the coffee shop’s uniform as if she worked there. She couldn’t see anything wrong with doing such a thing; she was saving herself from boredom and the cafe could use an extra set of hands, even if it was her set of hands in particular. 

As the door opened to the cafe, Jooyeon lifted her gaze from her fingernails, almost surprised to see someone decided to catch a caffeine fix here. What did surprise her, though, was that he looked a bit... well, he looked as if his heart would taste like cigarette ashes mixed with stale coffee and a dash of disdain for the evils of the world. She nearly snorted at the combination she thought up, but instead decided to end the phone call to give her attention to the newcomer. “Hello, what can I get for you?” 

It’s as if she could already tell what he wanted based off of his appearances. Dark circles under his eyes, a faint smell of cigarettes (not menthol, thankfully), black clothes and hunched shoulders; he needed something with a lot of caffeine, Jooyeon was sure of it. “Americano? Actually, how about a Red Eye? It’s like an Americano, but with coffee mixed into it instead of water... That sounds about right-” She continued to speak, running on and on without leaving any room for the mystery man to say anything; she knew what was good for him. “What’s your name?” she asked sweetly, nodding her head at an attempt to look attentive while scrawling something on the cup in black sharpie. 

Two minutes later, Jooyeon grinned cheekily as she handed his curated drink to him, the number 6000 written on it with a happy face in one of the zero’s. 

[flxwersdance-blog]

“You think I’m kidding. But I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire life.”

Eyes that usually shine in a deceptively warm, golden brown were darkened into a violent shade of black as she glared at the petite woman in front of her. It’s a rarity for Jooyeon to feel a deep annoyance on something that was not only her job, but what she needed to do to survive. Being a contract killer had its perks when she could be fed and paid at the same time; her career was effortless for her, easy money and something to keep her entertained on her own time. Doing this sort of thing for long enough, Jooyeon could either do things swift and straight to the point, or she could take her time to get creative; playing with her food before eating it, if you will. It was a rush for her, something that she lived for, literally. And there was nothing like someone getting in her way during her work that set Jooyeon off. 

She was already a ticking time bomb, ready to go off at any second, and the unlucky person to be behind that was staring at her with a determined gaze. Just who did the woman think she was? Jooyeon was already given a target for the night; a man in his early 30s who would easily throw away the people that cared for him the most if it would take him where he wanted to be. An opportunist was always amusing for her, someone she could easily take advantage of and take her time in completing her job. These marks were her favorite and had a nice price on them, and the idea of someone taking one of them away from her infuriated Jooyeon.

As she stood there with her hands clenched in fists at her side, Jooyeon’s eyes were in a deadly glare as she looked down on the woman. “I don’t think you’re kidding,” she hissed, voice dripping with annoyance as she happened to glance at the pistol clenched between their fingers in a firm grip, the metal of the silencer glinting in the dim lighting of the building. She bit back a chuckle at their weapon of choice, much preferring the intimacy of a stiletto blade or her own claws to something so impersonal as a gun. “I just think you’re plain stupid for trying to take my mark away from me. This mark is mine. And I’m being serious as well when I say to get lost.”