#oc ha-eun

When Ha-eun wakes, everything comes to him in parts. The first thing he registers is the feeling of something warm on his chest. Next, the sound of soft music alongside someone shuffling around with pots and pans. His eyes open shortly after. He startles at the realization he has no goddamn clue where he is. Ha-eun hardly notices the cat purring on his chest, staring at him with blue eyes. It's a Siamese cat, obviously very well groomed and taken care of. He moves to sit up, but only manages to let out a pained noise instead.

A voice sounds from the kitchen, "Morning, Kitten. I wouldn't suggest doing that just yet."

Ha-eun has no interest in playing coy. "Where am I?"

"My apartment." The woman makes her way over to the couch he'd been sleeping on. She sits with a mug in her hands, still steaming. It smells like coffee. "You were out for a good while there, mm? Had me worried you wouldn't make it. Nasty wound there."

Ha-eun grimaces as he remembers the shot in his abdomen, followed by the immediate throw into the Gotham Bay. He can still taste the muck of the water in his mouth.

"Hey, don't go anywhere just yet," she says, pulling him out of the memory. Her face is unreadable, but she looks moderately pleased. Ha-eun recognizes the fact she's reading him. Seeing what he's going to do, how he's doing, whatever. The cat on his chest stretches and hops off to find itself a bowl of food.

The woman takes a sip of her coffee. "I never got your name, honey."

Ha-eun contemplates whether or not being truthful gives him more of an advantage than lying would. Who knew what this woman could be capable of; he knew practically nothing about her. She seemed welcoming enough, but he'd experienced enough trickery in his life to understand that wasn't necessarily a criteria that meant anything. Anyone could be kind. It was a matter of if they meant it.

He decides there's no point; he'd lived his life as a criminal, before his nearly ended. If she recognized his name, oh well. If she didn't, even better. He'd be out of her hair before she could tell him to leave, and he'd find his way trying to locate Dae.

"Ha-eun." He doesn't supply his last name. She doesn't seem to mind, or even have expected any answer at all.

"Nice to have a name to put to your face, kitten." She smiles, though it doesn't seem to really meet her eyes.

"You gonna give me yours?" He wishes so badly he could sit up. He'd try again soon. The vulnerability of his position is not at all reassuring.

"Selina."

No last name, either. Fair enough.

Ha-eun nods. "How did you find me?"

Selina shrugs as she sips her coffee a little more. "Happened to see you get thrown in. Fished you out once it was safe to." Her nails, long and pointed, tap on the ceramic of the glass. "Who was that, kitten? Someone you got into a fight with?"

Rage bellows within the pits of his stomach. "No." She looks at him to elaborate. His eyes avert.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, honey. It'll just help me understand what the hell happened to you."

Ha-eun lets out a breath. It's shaky, pained, and exhausted. He doesn't want to think about Dae right now. He doesn't want to think about the throbbing in his abdomen. He doesn't want to think about the cold metal of the barrel pushed against the tender skin of his stomach. He does, anyway.

"My brother." It's an admission that strikes him like a lash. The onset realization that his baby brother did this to him. He would have died, if not for this random woman who had somehow seen him get thrown in. Tears well in his eyes. He does his best to blink them away.