He slides the porcelain cup across to the other, powder-topped foam teetering at the edge. Beneath the layer of feather-light nothing a concoction that so many live by resides; the deep, dark hues of tasteful beans and a dash of milk. Coffee.

“Sugar?” the young male – he is a man, contrary to the belief of others who pass him on the street who commonly mistake him as that of the other gender – asks his companion. His caramel locks are only a touch darker than the beverage filled in his cup.

The two don’t look out of place in this suitably high-class café with their sharp dress shirts and clean, immaculate appearances. Classy and refined, the indoor deco screams from the chandelier hanging in the centre of the place to the plush carpet hugging every inch of the floor. It stops at the set of wooden swinging doors, the left on which a large sign spells out ‘Staff Only’ with ornate lettering. Every now and again, a waiter will pass through, one arm rigid at their side, the other balancing a dark tray on which a beautiful delicacy sits. They range from exotic beverages to comforting cuisine, but there is one thing in common that they all have, and that is the high price stacked on the end of each item on the menu. Elegance does not come cheap.

There’s a dim buzz in the room, a quiet hum that’s not too noisy for it to be uneasily dismissed. Indeed, this is the most appropriate place for a business meeting such as the one which the two are here for today.

The man gives a curt shake of the head, dark feline eyes scrutinising the other. “No, I’m fine.” He doesn’t say thank you. Politeness will only get you so far in the world, and as things stand now he is currently above the other. Unnecessary actions are not needed.

Shrugging, the caramel-haired man empties a whole packet of the fine white sweetness into the cup, before lifting the delicate silver teaspoon resting on the saucer and giving an experimental swirl. A mini tornado blooms instantly, and it is only due to his calculated strength that the liquid does not spill over. “Suit yourself.” He says, a hint of petulance in his tone before he lifts the cup from the saucer and takes the first tentative sip.

“I will.” The other gives him a mildly amused look, before leaning forward and resting his chin upon smooth, delicate hands. “Lee Taemin-sshi, let’s get down to business.”

Taemin sets down the drink he is nursing, and adopts a similar stance. A small contemplative smile spreads across his baby-like features, and he gives a quiet hum of agreement.

“Yes, Key-hyung.”