When she looks her way, it sends a signal throughout Irene’s body. If there were sirens in her brain, she’s sure it would be loud enough for Wendy to hear.

But, said girl is oblivious with the way she meets her gaze. Avoiding scrutiny, Irene looks down and sees short but slender fingers, thumb hiding as it keeps its place in the book.

“How many reports have you done?” Irene catches Wendy taking a bite of their shared croissant as she asks. If it were anybody else, she’ll be scandalized. But this is Wendy… and all that comes to mind is that she’s extremely cute, instead of her usual ‘don’t eat with your mouth full!’ scolding that Seulgi always gets.

Irene heaves a sigh. “Only one… out of seven!”

In her frustration, Irene reaches out for her coffee cup and comes dangerously close to the fingers she had been looking at earlier. Wendy’s hands had always been soft to the touch. So much so that Irene bought the exact same hand cream that Wendy uses. But if Irene were to be honest, she’d admit that she doesn’t need it at all. The floral scent – Wendy blue, as they used to call it – is something she can’t help but miss.

Pushing the thoughts away, she intertwines her own fingers around her cup. She’s lucky the coffee has gone lukewarm by now. Burning her hand would be just as stupid as reaching for Wendy’s own.

“I remember clearly that you used to write ten reports a day back then.” Wendy has her eyes on her open book once more but she continues talking. “Unless… something is distracting you?”

At that, Irene frowns. Someone is.

Paperwork is nothing new to Irene, especially stacks done outside working hours.  It has never been a problem, really. Not until now.

Wendy looks up, expecting an answer. Irene’s not sure if she understands the gravity of her wo