In all his years of life, Do Kwangsun would have never seen himself in the position he was in now; stepping into the hotel not for a routine fuck, or to hang out with his friend. Not for the free food that he could easily sway out of some ditsy waitress who was arguably ready to hand over her entire savings account at just a glance and a small smile. He was here, bruised and injured to.. what could he call it? Care?-- No, that wouldn't be right. That's not something the 6 feet and five inches of bruises and stifled curse words did. For any one, in fact. At most, all Kwang did was maybe fuck a few people up for a friend but that wasn't because he cared, but more so he enjoyed slicing and dicing up some dumb asses a little too much.
He thinks about taking the stairs, but knows that with his injuries he shouldn't, taking a short detour to the elevator and avoiding any random strangers who may think to strike up the conversation. In all honesty, Kwang didn't want to talk. He didn't want to talk to strangers, his leader, hell he didn't even want to talk to the person he was 'caring' for-- he decided taking care of a favor is the best way to describe what this was.-- But he felt it was his duty to let him know that not only was he okay, (because let's be real, Lux is quite the worrier.) but also that the job he had set out to do; the murder he sought out to finish, had been completed. The elevator music (and perhaps the pain) irk him a bit, and he's relieved as he steps out onto his floor and walks over to the door he knows is his. Maybe Lux already knew he had his own key card to the room, or maybe he didn't. He didn't care at the moment. With a bit of effort, he pushes open the door and let's out a heavy sigh, dropping his shit on the floor and sliding down the wall damn near instantly, "You there?"