( — 휘인 ! ) her legs carry her as fast as they are able, though running is no easy feat with the heels that are upon her feet and the make-up that she cannot afford to mess up. locks of once neatly combed hair are already disheveled, but if she is able to get to the stage on time, then perhaps there will be a long enough interval for the stylists to fix it. but, as she nears the elevator, she takes note that the doors are already beginning to close, giving her a view of the desperation within her features that are reflected in the steel. “wait,” she calls out, tone carrying down the corridor. whether they hear her or not, wheein isn’t quite sure, but she can only hope for the sake of arriving to mamamoo’s recording on time, “please hold the elevator!”