BIG SHOTS
@pryongji
here’s what any eighteen-year-old girl will tell you: the sure-fire way to bypass any line is to get all dolled up. wriggle into a skin-tight minidress and throw on some heels, maybe add a dab of peach-pink lipstick to match. bouncers eat that shit up.
good thing she’s not eighteen anymore.
today’s guy is the same one who’d been stationed at the door last week-- he starts in recognition, eyes naturally drifting down to her lime-green runners. sebin has the decency to shoot him a sheepish grin. “came straight from a job. you know how it is.” apparently he does, because he steps aside without so much as a peep to let her pass. the next person in line’s not going to be so lucky-- poor kid doesn’t stand a chance in those khakis.
(she’s not seyoon, but those pants are fucking hideous. what. the. fuck.)
inside, it’s an absolute pigsty-- floors sticky from a cocktail of spilled drinks and grimy residue off well-trodden asphalt; harsh, swinging neon strobes an epileptic nightmare. not too shoddy for the unlimited supply of free drinks, though. the girl at this particular bar’s a definite perk. sebin slides into the next available spot at the counter. sheds her hoodie in the same breath and cups her hands around her mouth, a crude attempt at making herself heard above the bone-rattling bass. “hey, jiji. seen any big fish around today?”
but before that:
“don’t know about you, but i’m parched.”
