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"Should I get one?" Junhoe asks you when you both amble pass a tattoo parlor down the street that late night after a round of chi-maek with the buddies from your college days. "Where should I get it?"

You eyes widened; the idea sure is surprising. Then you exclaim, "You wanna die!?" as you slap his back, certainly against it.

"What's so wrong about it? It's cool!" he retorts, not feeling even the tiniest sliver of pain from your way-too-gentle hit. Your eyes roll so hard they might fall off their sockets. "Even if it's your name? No?"

It takes you a while to contemplate his negotiation and you eventually answer: "I'd consider. Though it's very unlikely for me to say yes, but I'll definitely consider."

Junhoe chuckles as he circles his arm around your waist and tells you that, "I won't do anything that is against my wife's wish, that's a promise I made myself."

"Oh, really?" You raise an eyebrow, somehow skeptical.

He nods surely. "Of course." A smile is carved on your face and you look away so he will not be able to see. "Unless I really have to, then I'm sorry, wifey.

You knew something like that would come out of him.

It doesn't take long for the smile on your face to fade and you once again yell at him, "You want to die so much, Mr. Koo Junhoe!?"

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