Yongguk flips his silver lighter open, flicking it once and holding it to the cigarette sitting between his teeth. He takes a long drag and exhales, relaxing into the leather sofa.

Your eyes warily trail over him; he’s much too calm considering the upcoming job. You shift in your seat and cross your legs, looking over the pile of papers that sit in your lap. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“What’s got you so wound up over there?” Yongguk asks, the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

A tight knot of worry coils in the pit of your stomach as you answer.

“This job,” you hold up one of the papers that outlines the timetable of events, “I feel like we’re rushing into it. We need more time.”

“Time isn’t a luxury here. If we don’t get this done tomorrow, we’re screwed in the long run.”

He takes another pull of the cigarette before appraising you with his eyes.

“You don’t have to come if you feel unprepared.”

You shake your head, “No, I feel plenty prepared,” you motion with your hand to the stacks of papers and maps covering the table between the two of you. “Something is telling me we need to take this slow. We’re rushing too much.”

Yongguk removes the cigarette and taps the ashes off into an ashtray, his demeanor remaining as steady as ever.

“It can’t be helped, love. We have to do this now.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth know that you should remove your personal feelings fr