[ FLOWER ]: sender offers a flower to receiver. ( a flower from a bouquet at a fan event. shh. )
… ANOTHER FAN EVENT. HOW MANY OF THESE is ji - eun going to be subjected to? none of this aspect of idol life incorporates any of the parts he enjoys. there's such little movement, no room for control – you don't even get to decide the questions. a ‘ q - and - a ’ is just a sweetly human term for a nightmare, if you ask him.
… but there is zoey. all the hunters are here. of course they are – it's why they showed up. this is how they've been doing things, lately. at times, ji - eun isn't sure if jinu is actually trying to thwart huntr/x, or if he's just so caught on their leader, that he's helplessly chasing after her every move.
still, zoey's nice. he didn't even have to try, to get her attention. initially, mystery wasn't even going to. but she makes it easy, with all her blushing & her giggling, the way her human heart betrays her. she's… good. truly good. sweet, and kind. perceptive. he can't get away with much, around her. she notices everything, ji - eun is starting to believe, and she –
– she's sticking a flower in his face. he blinks, a few times, head pulled back slightly at the neck. a few beats pass, rich with confusion. what's… does she want him to hold this for her, or something? she's got a whole bouquet. he's got a whole bouquet, resting on his place at the table – seat currently empty, its resident several halls down and around the corner. he'd slipped away just before the end.
slowly, he lifts a hand, pinching the stem between fingers that feel too - short, too - soft without claws exposed. when she doesn't snatch it back, he allows pressure proper, drawing it up to his nose. events like these always end up stuffy, scents overlapping & condensing, muddling his senses. this, though… it's fresh, enough so that it still carries its life's story – from the florist that arranged it, to the soil it came out of.
it also smells like zoey. but he's not focusing on that. quietly, minutely, mystery smiles, tilting his head away bashfully. the flower is tucked carefully in between the line of his vest & undershirt, twisted, somewhat, to preserve the bloom.
“ … thanks. ” for several long seconds, it seems like that's the end of it. then, he clears his throat. “ is… the event over? ”