ᴊᴜsᴛ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ

So immersed in getting things done, it does not register in her mind that the kitchen is suddenly much more silent than it had been when they first stepped in before the incident of Yura's injury. Instead, she merely deems the reasoning behind such quiet is because the girl has great manners when indulging in a meal.

Finished with her cleaning, Hyorin reaches around to her back and unties the small ribbon of the apron to lift the protective fabric above her head. She replaces it back onto the hook beside the rest and resettles her attention on the once famished female seated at the dining table. Her mouth opens to say something, maybe to comment, most likely just to ease away at the hardening quiet between them, but she stops when she notices how hesitant Yura appears to be, merely staring down at her plate of food. What seems all too long for her is, in reality, only a moment before the girl begins to eat, albeit rather slowly for someone who declared that were practically starving only a few minutes ago. Then, comes the glance towards her, almost as if asking for some sort of approval, the smile shown on the girl's face is not nearly as gleaming.

The entire scene brings a heavy feeling of uneasiness that sinks to the bottom of Hyorin's stomach and makes her just a bit more cautious. It nearly renders her frozen but she is quick to return the smile and respond, "Delicious, is it? Well, I guess that makes you a great chef, doesn't it? Interesting. I'm going to try some as well. Do you mind?" The question is rhetorical. She grabs her own plate and sits down across from the other, gaze constantly flickering to observe how much the female is eating. And once the plate is pushed away, still food remaining on the surface, she knows something is up. However, on the first day of work, it is hardly any of her business if anything secretly is going, so she busies herself with clearing the table. Anything to restrain herself from following behind the other.

Hyorin is quick to release the girl’s hand once it is revealed that the bleeding has ceased. For a moment, any conversation directed her way blurs into the background as she concentrates on examining just how large (or small) the cut is. She becomes so focused on figuring out the best treatment for the other that her mind barely registers the slowly decreasing amount of distance between them. Admittedly, maintaining the highest quality of professionalism is harder than it seems when it’s so early in the morning and the realization that her newly acquired job is quite similar to babysitting is just now sinking in fully. Not only is too much touching with her superiors not recommended, but she does not particularly enjoy it either. So when Yura grabs at her arm, her eyes widen and she has to stop herself from immediately yanking backwards.

In spite of her mind’s incessant spinning of cautionary tales, she can practically feel her once cold, cruel facade slipping away when she catches sight of that dorky, cheerful smile that twists the girl’s face into an almost adorable expression. Personal connections should never be mixed into a place of business, but a persistent something keeps whispering that merely offering advice to the other—no matter how small—has opened up the gates to a possible onslaught of affectionate feelings. And suddenly it becomes a question of whether those feelings are friendly or motherly. This lapse in thought allows just enough time for Hyorin to be dragged from the kitchen, down the hall, and into a sparkling clean bathroom.

Seeing as her bosses are insanely rich and own a mansion (in which Hyorin is currently 'working'), the unnecessarily large size of the bathroom should not surprise her. Yet, somehow it does. When Yura beckons for her to take a seat, she looks around crazily, trying to find a good place to sit. Bathrooms aren't the most comfortable of places to relax in, even for a moment. The toilet seems out of the question, so she settles down on the edge of the tub, hands gripping the edges so as not to risk falling backwards and becoming the next injured person. She watches the clumsy female struggle to reach for what she can only assume is bandages, or anything relatively close. Honestly, whatever it is Yura is stretching for appears to be way out of reach. Hyorin wants to help, but there's still that discussion of dependence and independence that keeps her at bay until a ton of items come raining down on the brunette's head.

The loud clatter of noise that echoes and bounces of the walls as a variety of items hits the cold tile of the floor is enough to make her stand, even before Yura decides to ask for her help in retrieving the first aid kit. Carefully, she maneuvers her way around various bottles of medication and tubes of ointment to stand beside the clumsy student. She really wants to comment on the fact that they are both highly similar in height (Hyorin maybe just a few centimeters shorter), though she keeps this to herself. Instead, in her attempt to reach the desired item, Hyorin balances on her tiptoes and jumps (just a bit) before her fingers close around the kit and she hands it to the other. Fortunately, most of the items that might have served as an obstacle had already been knocked out of the way, or she might have met the same fate as Yura.

"Here," she says with a small smile. Quietly, she watches as the other takes a brief moment to remove a bandage from the container and stick the thing over the wound. When that is over, relief instantly washes over her. Things could have been much worse, she thinks. More blood, possibly a visit to the hospital, maybe unemployment. Yes, it could have been much, much worse. Expectant gaze flickering from the mess of items on the floor to the hungry female beside resting atop the toilet seat, Hyorin clears her throat, trying to draw attention to the conflict of going to eat promptly after all this, though the food is probably already growing increasingly cold. A few more minutes of wait can't be too bad. "Ms. Ahyoung. Don't you think we should put everything back into the cabinet before we leave to eat?"

Unfortunately, the other does not appear to be too worried about the mess because she wanders out of the bathroom without a second thought. Hyorin stays behind for a minute, simply staring at the assortment of products scattered across the tiled floor until she realizes that there are probably people around to take care of small problems like that, so she rushes to follow behind Yura. When she reaches the female, the other is in the middle of a sentence that makes little sense. Or maybe Hyorin is just having trouble fully paying attention because their hands are linked together and there's that sense of closeness again that bothers her. Again she has to refrain from rudely cringing or jerking away. "Uh..." There is something about ditching Yura at the corner, in the sentence, and then the option of accompanying the student all the way to the university. 

"I’m actually glad you’re—- Ouch.." As she wasn’t done cutting the fruit, Yura found herself making a cut onto her skin instead of the fruit. The pain that appeared right after was strong enough to interrupt her from speaking. Holding her hand, she bit on her bottom lip as to try and endure the pain. "I-I..i-ish…" Confused as to what to do in those kind of situation, the brunette found herself clumsily opening the sink to pour water on the freshly cut hand. On the top of her cheek, a tear dared to appear and was now rolling down her face. She couldn’t deny it, it hurted. But what made her feel so bad was how all the fruits she cut were now inedible cause of the blood that was covering them.

One leg comes up to cross over the other, her arm then lazily falling to rest against it, elbow pressing into her thigh, wrist atop her knee. Her cold demeanor easily melts into something a little more warmhearted and she shakes her head before finally revealing what is on her mind. “Yura,” she begins in a tone equally as serious. “Please realize that I do say this as your friend, rather than someone called to watch over you. And please forgive me, for I might be overstepping my boundaries here, but I believe you are gravely mistaken about your parents. They are far from horrible people. They are only doing what they believe is best for you, their daughter. Yes, this usually does not end well because their actions begin to come off as overprotective and perhaps even overbearing, but they do not do that intentionally. Trust me, every child struggles with seeing the great reasons behind their parents actions until it comes time for them to become adults.”

Pausing in her speech, she holds up a hand to signal for Yura to remain quiet, as she is not quite finished, simply caught still in the middle of the thought process. As she gazes curiously at the other for hints of emotional expression through body language, she dwells on the fact that she remembers a time in the past where her thoughts had been the same as the younger female’s. That brings a smile to her face. “I must agree with you that business is quite like a game. But I also think that the type of game you are referring to is nothing like the one I know by experience. Nonetheless, your parents do not threaten me. They may be a bit persistent and demanding, but they have earned that authority and I am a willing victim to the onslaught of that authority because I choose so. That is life. Do not confuse it with evil. You have been closed off from the reality of the world for a long time, you still have much to learn.”

With that, she has nothing more to say, thus closing her mouth for the time being and mentally scolding herself for having said that much. No more lecturing, she thinks. In fact, it may prove more beneficial if I stay entirely silent after that. So she does. Each statement and question tossed her way in an attempt at further engaging polite conversation goes unanswered. Instead, Hyorin does as she is instructed without saying a word. She does not even try to persuade Yura to let her handle the cutting when she sees the girl with a knife, which goes against her better judgment because she has heard stories about the other’s involuntary clumsiness. Plus, internally, she worries that the cheery female will begin to question her motives if she continues to act so much like a caretaker when she is supposed to be more like a fly on the wall. Babying a nineteen year old woman is not the best way to maneuver herself into a connection founded on trust and innocent affection.

However, ignoring her instincts to help those in need turns out to be much more difficult than she expects. She realizes this when she is in the middle of evenly slicing strawberries, immersed more in her work than on keeping an eye out for Yura. Her first clue to the complications of throwing aside one’s apprehensions comes when she witnesses the young fashion design student grasping the handle of her own knife. Hyorin contemplates taking the sharp silverware from the other, but restrains herself with memories of what it is like to finally pursue and gain independency. There is no doubt in her mind that interfering with something so small because she believes Yura will hurt herself is bound to end in molding a tension of distrust and agitation between them. After all, this is most likely what she believes her parents have been indirectly doing all this time. Although Hyorin does not agree with the tarnished feelings the female has for her parents, she does not wish the same for herself.

Instead of opening up the conversation to more chatter concerning names and titles, her mouth does not open once to comment in the compliment thrown her way. In fact, she pretends not to have heard it at all. Names are feeble things, not nearly as serious as most people make them seem. And it wasn’t as if Hyorin had chosen the name for herself. If anything, the compliment would do better aimed at her mother and father. Luckily, however spacey the young girl appeared to be, she at least had enough common sense not to try and pry any deeper into the reasons for silence, instead practically bouncing off the walls and rushing to lead the way to some unknown place, which the elder woman later concludes is the kitchen area judging by the various sets of cookware decorating the walls. Also, the stove, refrigerator, and other easy everyday clues to help identify the location.

With undisguised interest, the business woman wanders her way around the kitchen, closely examining several items as she leaves Yura to handle whatever affairs the girl has with the two unfamiliar faces also occupying the rather large space. Once the two workers are gone, Hyorin flickers her gaze from an antique china cabinet to the other, expression far from amused, yet somewhat playful with the slow inching of her eyebrows upwards. “So, he is allowed to refer to you as Ms. Ahyoung, yet you have qualms against me doing so?” she inquires, turning away to reach for an apron of her own. For a brief moment, she allows her fingers to run along the soft fabric, thoroughly inspecting the overall design, each seam and stitch. Admittedly, hearing that the girl had made them by herself is quite shocking, and she is amazed by the effort. However, her mind is far behind her lips and she merely comments, “The appearance is a bit cutesy for something that is just going to get dirty, don’t you think?”

Nonetheless, the darkest apron, a black and white thing that adorns the design of flowers of the same colors, promptly finds its place over her head, around her neck, and secured around her waist. She fiddles with the sash-like ribbon on the right side while Yura begins a complicated venture into the world of discovering the perfection of making pancakes correctly. The apron is more to ease the most likely anxious mind of the other than to keep food from staining and messing up her clothes because she does not plan on actually cooking anything. At least, not when Yura looks so determined to make her own meal (probably something to do with dependency). Off to the side, Hyorin watches quietly, not bothering to step in until the first pancake turns out to be more of a charred black than a light, honey brown on its outside. She merely assists the other in scraping the pan of any excess burnt crumbs and discarding the inedible object in a nearby trash bin.

The rest of the pancakes are spared the cruel treatment of the first and things are able to go rather smoothly. Of course, that might have something to do with the fact that she is merely observing and not the one actually doing the cooking. Once the dishes are placed in the sink (the mixing spoon, bowl, pan and spatula), she immediately busies herself with doing them. Technically, it isn’t in her job description, but there is nothing wrong with earning a few extra brownie points by doing the little things. And this way, the apron is finally being used for something more than decoration. Silently humming a tune to herself as she washes, she almost misses the odd question that comes from beside her. It comes so suddenly that she freezes in the middle of her actions to think, water running consistently over her hands, filling the bowl until it begins to spill over the edge. “I don’t think I have a favorite,” is her dull answer. And she resumes her washing.

The timid, yet fierce woman decides not to comment on the pathetic clumsiness of her boss’ daughter when awaking. Although probably humorous to most, the collision of forehead and wall does not even a spark a smirk on her face. Instead, she lets out an exasperated sigh, stepping back to increase the distance between them before an incident involving herself could occur. The question of who she is goes ignored. It is not their first, or second, time meeting nor speaking, thus Hyorin wonders why the other appears to have forgotten so easily. A whole conversation, which had seemed quite confiding on her end, has been erased. Another figment of imagination and fleeting dreams. That bothers her more than being mistaken for someone else entirely.

So she allows her words to fall heavy like lead upon her tongue and simply leaves the student to hastily ready herself for the day ahead. Surprisingly, despite having just awaken, Yura has much more energy than herself, swiftly springing into action once realization strikes with the force of a whip. Her eyes merely follow the lightning quick movements with dazed observation. Even once the divider separates them for privacy, she still continues to gaze on, somewhat uncertain of what to do next with no clear instruction. She is so caught up in the idea of maintaining a still, neutral image that it takes more time than what is appropriate for her to realize that the dividers are not providing much privacy at all. Through the numerous holes in the mahogany wood, exposed skin is all to be seen.