âlocked in a roomâ starters (accepting)
⏠: stuck in an elevator together
Chansik was never in a hurry for anything. He didnât have appointments, didnât have primary commitments. He could have taken the stairs easily, even if it meant sacrificing some energy just to get to the top floor. But he thought that riding the elevator would be a more efficient way of going up, and the programmers were very keen in telling Chansik to always not waste time.
âElevator it is, then,â said Chansik to himself, as he made his way to the buttons to press âupâ.
Aside from him, there was another person who was already inside. He seemed very stressed out, looking at his watch every now and then. They still had a few floors to go, and Chansik had contemplated on starting a conversation, but his programmers prohibited him from doing so. Four floors in the trip and the lights inside the compartment started to flicker, and go out, much to the surprise of the stranger he was with. The elevator stopped completely, and the oxygen level started to decrease gradually. Chansik looked around for something to fix, scanning the buttons for a useful one to press. He came across a bell-shaped one and pressed it, with the programmersâ approval. The emergency light went off, and some sort of alarm was ringing outside.
The android turned to look at the stranger, who seemed even more stressed than before.
âIâve pressed the alarm button; help will be here immediately.â Chansik said in his most assuring voice, offering an additional smile to help calm the stranger down.
It was hardly even eight in the morning and he was already behind schedule. It was an absolute disaster. His script was nowhere to be found in the seemingly bottomless pit of a backpack right now but at least he had no hair (a/n: because the character he is currently filming as is a monk). At least he had no hair that would still be tousled from the sleep he had woken up from barely ten minutes ago and no hair to be blown apart by the wind that was determined to shove him back into his apartment building. But the fact that he was hoping to squeeze in some last minute script memorization and that hope was basically crushed because he had less than five minutes to spare at the salon which he was on his way up to, left him tapping his foot impatiently and glaring at his watch every twenty seconds.
No more than a minute or two must have passed since he last checked the time when the elevator jolted to a stop and caused Krisâ gaze to snap at the elevatorâs floor monitor instead.
âYou must be kidding me, God damn typhoon, why today.â He muttered under his breath, frustration evident in the voice that seeped though his gritted teeth. As his mind raced to find a solution, or at least, help, he finally noticed the stranger beside him. He froze, more or less embarrassed to be caught in such a crude state of both mind and appearance, and cleared his throat to regain his composure.Â
âRight, thanks so much.â He then paused and contemplated. Should he apologize? Should he spark a conversation to pass time? Should he investigate the situation furthermore?Â
With his hand curling around his nape, Kris offered the other a small but lingering smile. â...Iâm sorry for snapping just now, I wasnât doing that to you. Todayâs just been, bad, already, and I havenât even been awake for an hour yet, you know, so yeah. Iâm usually pretty patient and all.âÂ
