@realstpcy: where we left off.
“Yah..my studio isn’t that smelly..” He believes, and knows that his claim is correct; in fact, he even reiterates that he cleans up possibly twice or thrice a week, maybe once if he’s busy – and when he doesn’t get to, he asks a friend to do so on his behalf. There’s no possible way the elder could be correct, and he simply doesn’t understand why, or how her face instantly scrunched up the moment they stepped into the place and closed the door. How dare she exaggerate!
“I was going to let you listen to some unreleased tracks.. the good ones I plan to submit.. Why are you bullying me and my studio…” He rubs the nape of his neck as he sinks into his office chair, heaving a sigh. But his words, of course, as always, are just harmful banter. They’re all spoken in feigned dejection, coupled with a deep pout. “Aigoo…whatever, c’mon, sit down!”
The female knew that her facade was about to falter any minute soon, and she didn’t like disappointing herself with a failed attempt to tease. Thus, she cups her mouth to cover up the smile that was forming, disguised as her covering her nose as she tries oh so hard to muffle down the laughter that was threatening to rumble from her throat. “It’s not my fault it smells like this...don’t shout at me. I’m your noona.” She points out.
What he said after, however, had piqued her interest. Quickly, the hand previously covering half of her face fell back to her side, and excited glint beginning to take over her orbs. “Are you really going to let me hear?” Before he even offered her a seat, she managed to find her way to it, plopping down on it with as much primness as she could muster.