Being interrupted in the middle of trying to work out what the hell was up with Kyungsoo’s stolen fob card because the rest of her team were keen to get out and have fun did not sit well with Miran, and it made her antsy.  She sulked at the back of the bus, refusing to join in conversation with Hyeri and Yeri (who were making more noise individually than a pair of screaming toddlers at the front combined) and trying to ignore Woohyun and Key acting out like a pair of teenage hooligans beside her.  Kyungsoo looked similarly irritated as he kept a watchful eye on them all from where he was leaning on one of the poles in the bus beside them all.  After a few minutes, it appeared to get too much for him, and with an air of “I don’t want anybody to realise they’re connected to me”, he came over and slid into the seat beside Miran.

“I did tell them to give you another half an hour rather than dragging you out the second they all clocked off,” he grumbled, almost too quietly to be heard.  Miran threw him a judging look.  Checking briefly to ensure that the others weren’t looking, he slid a cereal bar from his pocket into hers.  Puzzled, Miran slipped her hand into her pocket and closed her fingers around the wrapper.

“Sir, shouldn’t you be—?”

“Yeri said you were so agitated during lunch you barely ate anything, which was why she thought it was a good idea to get you off work sooner rather than later to get you to relax.  We might not have had a full on training session this morning, but you still need to eat.”

Unsure whether or not she could accept it, Miran kept hold of the cereal bar.  Part of her mind was spinning, demanding to know how Kyungsoo had got his hand on such rare food – and food which was normally only distributed to active soldiers in the field for its high calorie content and small size – and why the hell he’d happily give up something so precious, but there was something else that was bothering her.

“Sir, are you sure you can afford to be this generous?”

He scratched his nose and looked away.  “I have extra rations.”

Miran sighed impatiently.  “You’re currently under suspicion—”

“I know.  Were you expecting me to be awkward or ostracise you or something?”

“Yes,” said Miran bluntly.

He gave an exasperated little chuckle.  “I don’t see why I should.  I know I’ve done nothing wrong and I also know that you’re just doing your job.  If part of that involves suspecting your boss, that for me, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still your mentor.  Not just that, but if I start treating you differently, it’ll cause friction in the team—”

“I’ve been here literally a couple of weeks.”

“You’re one of us, Miran, and you probably have the most dangerous job of the lot of us right now.  None of us can help you unless you clear us and ask us, but that doesn’t mean we’re not going to look after you or neglect passing on our experience in areas that might help you.  I’ve been in this business eight years; you haven’t even clocked up four hundred hours yet.  From personal experience, the position you’re in right now is horribly isolating.  It would be so easy for the wrong person to take advantage of that.  You’re going to find out more stuff than you want to about people; you’re intruding into things innocent people don’t want you to know; you’re going to find out less-than-savoury stuff about people you know and like and it’s forever going to change your perception of them, and people are going to hate you for it.  A little kindness can really help.”

Miran contemplated the cereal bar in her pocket again.

“Then what would you do if it became clear that I or one of the people in our cell had turned rogue?”

Kyungsoo grimaced, and Miran realised that she asking him about something he’d already had to do.

“Until it became obvious that it was Yerim, I did spend a bit too much time trying to convince myself that she was innocent,” he admitted.  “I don’t know what I’d do, to be honest, but I just hope that I wouldn’t make the same mistakes again.  We lost too many good people, and Minji—”

His jaw suddenly clenched as though he’d bitten his tongue, and he abruptly got up.  Miran frowned as he made to go down the bus, his gaze darting distractedly to Hyeri.  Kyungsoo didn’t exactly wear his heart on his sleeve, but Miran had been around him enough to be able to tell that the crease between his eyebrows was because he was upset.  She wracked her brains for information on Minji, sure she’d heard the name somewhere before, but pulled a blank, and in an attempt to give her some time to dredge it up so that she could formulate the right question to get more information out of Kyungsoo, she asked: “Wait, where exactly are we going tonight?”

Kyungsoo considered for a moment and then sat back down, slumping against the back of his seat.

“Bowling,” he said sourly.  “I ing hate bowling.”

An unbidden chuckle bubbled out of Miran’s mouth.

“Why?  It’s fun.”

“I at it.”  He exhaled loudly and waved vaguely in the direction of the others.  Woohyun was doing some kind of impression of a work colleague and Key was laughing his arse off.  “They’re going to absolutely cream me and it’s going to be humiliating.  And I’m going to be even worse than usual this week because my arm still has those goddamn bruises from giving blood.”

Miran laughed again and pulled the cereal bar out of her pocket.  After a split second of contemplation while she unwrapped it, she broke it in half and offered part of it to him.  He held up a hand and shook his head minutely.  Shrugging, Miran crammed it into .

“So,” she said around the mouthful, caramelised oat flying everywhere, “if you don’t like bowling, why are we going bowling?”

“Yeri’s suggestion,” Kyungsoo said with an air of long-suffering patience before brightening a little.  “It’s one of Hyeri’s favourite things, though, so who am I to refuse?”

Miran snorted.  “Whipped.”

Kyungsoo frowned unhappily.  “What?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“God.  I give you a cereal bar and you join the dark side.  That’s the last time I’m being nice to you.”

Miran quickly discovered the other reason behind Kyungsoo giving her the cereal bar was because there was nothing to eat at the bowling alley and Yeri had booked them in until the last bus before curfew.  After having next to no lunch, there was no chance she would have been able to survive the exuberance of the rest of her cell for three whole hours without food.  The odd meal wasn’t a problem, but stress and lack of food made her very cranky.

Yeri and Woohyun practically went crazy the second they got their bowling shoes on and went skidding over the lacquered floor with childish whoops.  Kyungsoo watched them for a moment, shaking his head, before he was tackled by Key and they nearly crashed into one of the ball racks.  Miran was left alone with Hyeri, who was squinting at one of the attendants cleaning a lane in the far corner.

Miran nudged her.  “Everything okay?”

Hyeri jumped as though she hadn’t even realised Miran was there before plastering a smile on her face.  It didn’t reach her eyes.  “Yeah.  Just a bit tired.  Sorry.”

She looked too preoccupied to be classified as “a bit tired”, but Miran dropped it and got her alley shoes on before heading over to the lanes that the others had congregated at.  Hyeri hurried after her.

“Men v!” Key exclaimed excited.  “We’re gonna rule!”

Woohyun shoved him to the side.  “No.  If the girls have Yeri and Hyeri, they’re gonna win.  I refuse.  And we don’t even know if Miran’s good yet.”

“Yeah, Kyungsoo and Hyeri should team up as that balances a team out instantly,” Yeri piped up before throwing a faintly apologetic look in Kyungsoo’s direction.  “Sorry, boss.”

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes, but it was obvious to all of them there that he was edging his way over to Hyeri in any case.

“Shotgun Yeri,” Key said a split second later, flinging an arm around the woman’s shoulders.  “We’re the dream team, we are.”

Woohyun gave a scandalised gasp.  “You are not deserting me, you traitor!”

Miran felt a pair of fingers hooking into her collar and looked around.  Kyungsoo’s gaze was still directed at Hyeri, but he was smiling.

“Come on,” he said.  “You’re with us.  Hyeri’s more than capable of winning single-handedly, anyway, there’s no need to worry.”

Seeing that the teams had been sorted, Yeri bolted for the nearest ball rack to snaffle all the lighter ones.  Hyeri disappeared after her, calling dibs on a six and an eight and, worryingly, a fourteen.  Miran glanced down at the small rail beside her to spot an eleven and a twelve there