LOOSE THREAD

warsk​:

Jungh’s fingers slipped over the chest of the form, smiling at her own choice of words. “Mhm, I’m always a good girl. My record is clean.”

(This wasn’t a lie—there was no concrete evidence for any particular crime that could be pinned on her. The record was still there, though. She liked the idea of people having her name on their tongue in the prescient office.)

With her chin resting against the form’s shoulder, humming to herself happily. She loved to talk about herself, and at least with Juwon she could do it a little more than with others. Just a little. Maybe enough to earn that friend title he was talking about.

Maybe.

“The other forms have some projects on them for school. I take my work seriously. There are some design courses, etcetera, but, mostly it’s just projects anymore.” She pushed herself away from the form and stood in front of it, partially admiring her own handiwork and partially finding things she could fix. “If I did, it would make this whole request of yours easier to deal with.” Now, she crossed her arms over her own chest, turning to him and staring Juwon down. She knew his measurements and how his body moved (take that however you’d like), but knowing what he needed the material for in that specific style would help with the construction.

Prying? No. It was just to do her job properly. It wasn’t that she cared about him, about what he did, about what he would do that would require anything like this.

But, it was maybe that she feared it’d make him an enemy.

1013m‌:

“Is that so?”

Was he just bullshitting now? Rambling off about training for two institutions she really didn’t care about. Is he really that much of a government man now? Was he going to lecture her on taxes? (Get it together, Jungah. Keep your head up.)

At least, she had an excuse to feign ignorance.

“I go to Ewha; I don’t know many guys who have gone to the military recently aside from a few. So, I can’t say I know much about it. Still sounds like it made you tough.”

A few, meaning some of the men who worked for her family. But he didn’t need to know that or that her cousins were able to buy their way out of having to do their service.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Jimin decided to drop a few bombshells on her one after the other.

“I’m happy that you haven’t changed a lot.”

The Jungah that Jimin knew all those years ago was a different Jungah. That Jungah was a little sweeter, had a little bit less training, and hadn’t had enough life experience to know when to stop giving a shit. Hell, even that Jungah was too enamored with Jimin and the idea of something somewhat normal, somewhat innocent, that not even she knew who that was. Even then she didn’t want get him dragged into everything which is exactly why as he continued on, her heart sank.

Would it be wrong to say no?

He was a cop.

“I take it I’m still youthful?” she tried to laugh it off, smiling a bit, trying to not flirt or flatter herself too much. It was a hard switch to turn off, but she’d be damned if she let him see her like that.

(Whenever the day would come, she wondered what he’d think about her. Would he recognize her? Would that day ever come?)

God, the irony was still killing her.

Why couldn’t have he just become some thug on the street?

(She knew why; Jimin was a good person.)

To become friends with a man who just opened up that his mother passed away, the same woman her family used to threaten him. A man who was now on the polar opposite of her world, part of a system she didn’t trust. It was twisted, and she had to pull her hands into her lap so she could pinch her wrist to keep from scowling in frustration. The world was twisted and sick, and as she stared at him across the tiny table in a place that smelled too strongly off coffee (her clothes were going to reek after, gross) she just couldn’t find it in her to say no.

It was like a slap in the face (not that she had many of those), and so were the words that fumbled out of her mouth. “I’m sorry about your mother. I’m sure she’s very proud of you.” Jungah felt a little awkward offering her condolences. Was that even right? She should probably visit his mother’s grave some time to apologize properly.

She waited a beat to get herself together again and smiled at him. The girl from years ago couldn’t help but to say yes, even if it was another half-baked lie.

“Childhood friends who go out for drinks, that also reminds me of a drama.”

This was bad. This was dangerous.

Just by association, she could get him fired. Then what?

Her thumb brushed over his name, wondering if he already knew.

No, he couldn’t. She couldn’t see him lying to her like that.

“Let’s do it, then. Let’s not be strangers.”

She knew she was going to regret it. She wasn’t sure of how just yet.

Where's Jungah at?

baskuiat‌:

“You’ll never find yourself a woman who will settle down with you if you forget these things. Manners are important in a man.” It was funny that she first met him at a formal event; she couldn’t imagine him being at another one without getting kicked out. Finally, Jungah sank herself down onto the ground, sitting on his jacket. That was better than getting any of her own clothes dirty. Grass stains or mud? No, thank you.

Once she got herself settled, she was able to take in the scenery around them. The sun was sinking further and further and the sky had become a pleasant shade of pink. “This seems to be more of a sentimental setting than what you used to write.” Perhaps this is why he wanted to see her. Something different and something familiar. “It’s good to try something new. Maybe you’ll learn something and that’ll help with your other endeavors.” Whatever it was, maybe it was something he needed.

A creative adventure did sound nice. She figured should probably do that, at some point. Maybe she’d pencil it in, but that felt like it would defeat the purpose. She hadn’t had a chance to be truly creative since she graduated. Jungah couldn’t pretend anymore. Not like when she could fool around with him easily, had the freedom of school and time and less people depending on her.

She had responsibilities.

Whatever.

“So, why did you want me here?”

baskuiat‌:

He still looked a little rough around the edges. Jungah thought. She took note that he had more tattoos now, which made him look more like the men that flanked her regularly. It was nice that tattoos were a little more common now for keeping things under wraps. Though, she’d not let her men dress as she remembered Tommy did.

“I’m glad, that means I still look well.” She already believed she looked good; Jungah rarely needed the compliments of others to reassure her. “You, on the other hand, look a little different. Not a lot, but enough.” Jungah bent her knees slightly and traced a bit of the tattoo on his neck with her finger. “This, for instance.” It’d probably fade over time since it was so exposed—but at least he wouldn’t need to do it in the same way her family did. She retracted her hand though and stood up straight, peering past him at his notebook. “I guess some time away with yourself was enough to forget yourself, huh? That sounds a little opposite of what should happen, if you ask me.”

Awkwardly, she stood above him still, hovering as she hoped he’d catch the hint. “See, this is the part where you’d ask a woman to take a seat,” she bit her bottom lip, a new wave of memories overcoming her of doing a similar lecture in the past, “and you’d put something down for me to sit on.”

baskuiat‌:

The accountant across from Jungah seat would pipe up with something about the investments they had, or questions about this or that—stuff that was important and that she did keep tabs on, but she didn’t like the process of crunching the numbers herself. Instead, she was fiddling with her phone, reading the news for anything that looked salacious or worrisome for her.

“And this…”

“Uh huh.”

It was like that for another hour until he left and Minwoo told her that she had no other appointments (she already knew this and proceeded to tell him that— he rolled his eyes). It was a relief, since her mind was wandering.

She didn’t want to be there, but she didn’t know where to go. It was a strange, listless feeling she couldn’t pinpoint.

Then, of course, the phone that was still in her grasp vibrated, and a name she had to remind herself of brought back a flood of late nights, roaming hands, and needed distractions from years ago. It’d be rather strange to spend the night with him after all this time so she expected that wasn’t what he wanted (but, it wouldn’t surprise her if he didn’t change at all).

So, he’d probably be a good distraction now, right?

[sms; Kuddo ] Sure.

And she was off, in her car, to get a distraction.

...

When Jungah found him, by himself, she didn’t sit down at first. She took a moment to stare at him from above and recount the last time they even were in contact. A text, probably. She deleted messages too often to remember what it had last been about, but she could throw out a few guesses.

“It’s rude to ask a woman to come to you out of the blue.”

She said it with a smile, partially serious and partially joking.

“It’s nice to know you’re alive.”

this is like when i was on iso continuing to go “i’ll come back!!” and never did lol.

Please seek help if you are struggling.

It’s been a million years, and I do miss writing, but I'm unsure if I can get some sort of motivation. I haven’t gotten into my hobbies other than watching shows, video games, and reading-- no creative outlet. So I’ll try, even if it’s once in a blue moon.

chaoticer‌:

"Not so much laundering, no." The plans for the first underground level were mostly for the space to act as a buffer between the first floor and the second underground level. Something nice and soundproof. Jungah took her grandmother's advice for the space, even if she hoped she wouldn't have to use that room often. "But I will be storing some things here and there, sure. It's nothing you should concern yourself with." The less Rhys knew, the better it was for all parties involved.

Jungah took a sip of her drink and stared directly back at Rhys, pride swelling in her chest over her own family name. "What benefits me, benefits my family. And whatever benefits my family, benefits me." They were inseparable-- for better or for worse. Jungah refused to believe it was of any detriment to her, but deep down she knew that wasn't entirely true.

Did Rhys do his research, or was he walking into this blind? It did make her curious. Either he was completely confident, or a complete idiot. Though, they weren't exclusive of one another. It could be better if he didn't really know. Again, for both parties, some degree of ignorance wasn't a bad thing."My family's legacy is enough of a resume. Not that you need to see it--" She used her hand holding onto the glass to gesture around them, almost showcasing the room,  "--this is only a small part that I’ve been entrusted with. To fill out my resume." 

chaoticer‌:

There was something incredibly relaxing about the warmth and scent of the office. Perhaps it was the fact that she had entirely gutted the office and had it redecorated to her liking, but she was more inclined to think it was the atmosphere of a place she was beginning to call a second home.

(Confidence was definitely something that Jungah did not lack.)

Jungah scoffed when Rhys declined a drink; she wasn’t a low-class criminal. Really, she didn’t think of herself as a criminal at all, but rather, a businesswoman. Usually, her definitions were loose. As far as Jungah was concerned, someone of her caliber would certainly not poison a thing. When the drink girl looked at her with an unsure expression (who would tell Junah no?), she simply nodded and smiled, doing her best to look unfazed. “Well, Seoul’s water isn’t always the best, so that’s understandable.” The drink girl nodded, reaching on the bottom shelf of the cart and setting a bottle of artisan water as well as a glass down in front of Rhys.

All the while, Minwoo hid his laugher behind his hand.

Still slightly perturbed, Jungah slid the folder across the coffee table over the Rhys. “Blueprints of what we’ll be building.” She sat straight, as usual, and reached for her drink as the woman with the drink cart dismissed herself from the room (only after being stopped by Minwoo for a drink—Jungah resisted the temptation to roll her eyes). “We had someone draw up plans for a garage, etcetera. Then, at the basement levels…” She waved her free hand as if she was trailing off on her train of thought. “Well, that’s for me.”

Elaboration wasn’t needed. At least, she hoped for her sake it wasn’t. It would be too bothersome to deal with, but she had a very nagging thought that he wouldn’t let it go.

“I own a few buildings in the area and the rest of the neighborhood are all very familiar with me, so I am sure they’d love your services upon my recommendation.” She took a sip of her drink, savoring the flavor before continuing on. “If anything, I’ll be sure to utilize your services.” Cue another classic Jungah smile and Minwoo coughing out some of his drink.

She was this close to asking Minwoo to wait outside.

Asshole.

“Any questions?”

chaoticer‌:

There was something incredibly relaxing about the warmth and scent of the office. Perhaps it was the fact that Jungah had entirely gutted the office and had it redecorated to her liking—actually, thinking on it, it was entirely her doing, and she congratulated herself on it. Before the door opened and Rhy’s presence was announced. She thanked his escort, giving a short nod to indicate they’d discuss his little trip to the shop later and the performance of the newbie. It was, of course, understood, and the door was shut behind him.

A gleam of playfulness flickered in her eyes when her gaze met with Rhys’. “It’s nice to see you again as well, please, take a seat.” She gestured toward the couch in front where Minwoo was slowly getting up from. He gave Rhys only a nod before sauntering to a corner of the room to watch everything play out, hands in his pockets and a bored expression on his face. Jungah, meanwhile, was standing up from behind her desk and whisked herself over opposite the now vacant couch with an accordion file folder to a couch facing opposite it. As she placed the file folder on the coffee table that separated them, a woman entered with a cart, bottles lightly clinking against one another as she rolled it in.

“What’s your drink of choice?”

She didn’t make a request, but already the woman was pouring Jungah a glass of her favorite Merlot.

Some things didn’t need to be said.