animal obsessed || JB * yujin
There are moments when Yujin really hates her own job. Those are the moments when she has to force herself to do something utterly ridiculous just because her editor said she should and if she didn't like her so much she'd have killed the woman a long time ago. After all, she still has at least a twinge of logic left within her and she knows that without her editor she wouldn't have this job, and without this job - well, she wouldn't really have anything at all. she tried the assassin thing, once - of course she finished the assignment but she got no enjoyment out of it, the man was a perfect gentleman and fairly ugly and she didn't feel any of that suffocating desire well up inside her, waves of it roaring through her ears until she's just a conduit for the heat rushing through her veins - eyes staring in wonder at the masterpiece her body had created without her direction. In that - she had felt only detached interest, and barely even ; she had gone through the motions but had stopped and stuttered because everything had seemed so natural, so obvious, so impulsive before, but now she had to think about what she wanted to do next and that was impossible. but that had occured a long time ago - her most recent annoyance is the fact that she has been told to interview a model about their eating habits. or rather, she'd been told to try and appeal to a wider demographic, and obviously everyone wants to know how to look like a model, and even more obviously, a model's looks are completely dependent upon what they eat. ( she doesn't really know if there's any truth in that, but she isn't particularly invested in finding out ) but as much as her feet are screaming to turn around and her knees want to buckle and drop and her stomach is grumbling about food ( as usual ), she knows in her mind that she does in fact need her job and so she continues in the direction she had set, eyes steely though her body betrays none of her thoughts. she climbs the steps before giving the maître d'hôtel her name and being led to a private booth, comfortably and tastefully decorated. - she had contacted the man's agent weeks before and had nearly forgotten about this appointment if not for the blaring alarm that went off on her phone. impatient as always but just barely punctual, her foot raps against the wood flooring, even as her back molds to the comforting plush of the couch. the room is much too large for two people to have dinner, she thinks, but it isn't her money being spent ( she can expend it to the paper ) so she doesn't really care. the waiting grates on her nerves.