《 🌼 》 SHE ALWAYS LOVED watching the expressions of her clients when they find out that Phoibos was actually a woman. The perplexity of their gaze falling upon her while their minds try to piece together every bit of detail they knew about this arms dealer, this gun specialist who did her deeds in the black market, far beneath the grounds and far under the watchful eye of the public. It’s always the same inquiry at the beginning, if she was lost or if she was looking for someone in particular. Then the name rolls off her tongue and thus begins that short journey of her clientele putting two and two together like some dumbfounded child learning mathematics for the very first time. The arms’ dealer lived for that. Amused by the way they look at her differently and she assumes her next rendezvous would end up with the same results.
Heels clack against the pavement beneath her, briefcase remaining at her side as she steps foot into the dimly lit club. Briefly, she studies her surroundings, nodding her head at the bodyguard at the front, who mostly likely assumed she was simply a young woman looking for a good time, a drink or two around the late afternoon, or a concubine of sorts. A quirked brow is given when she peers over towards the bartender, deep pools looking for that person. What she doesn’t expect, however, is to see another woman present. For a moment, she’s struck numb by the beauty who stood next to a man in a suit sitting at a table. Locks of blonde in soft waves cascading down and resting atop of her bosom. Clad in flashy garbs and it’s a wonder if perhaps this was the jazz singer that her client had mentioned. Clearing her throat, Sangmi draws closer towards the table, expression rather smug.
She’s greeted with a deep voice, ❛ You lookin` for someone, sweetheart ? ❜ A facade of a smile curls at the edges of her lips and she sets the briefcase down on top of the table, watching as the glass of alcohol that was there with it shake, nearly spilling the contents out. ❝ You, actually, unless you’re not Kim Jungwon. ❞ Just like always, she watches as it takes a moment to register — the confusion mixed with skepticism and then potential realization, but there’s the inquiry first. ❛ You're Phoibos ? But you’re a woman, is this some kind of joke ? ❜ Of course. The female’s eyes could roll if she’d let it, roll so far back from hearing this over and over again, but she doesn’t, instead her gaze averts away from the man and instead rests upon the jazz singer next to him, flashing her a genuine and playful smile. Her gaze lingers before she returns her attention to him again. ❝ Look, you want these gun parts or not. I’m not here to waste time. ❞ Her brow arches, expression stern with reddened lips pressed together, causing little creases to form at the edges of her mouth.
❛ All right, all right. Show me. ❜ Narrowed eyes study those defined features of her client before coming upon her decision to show them or not. ❝ Show me the money first, then I’ll show you the parts. ❞
