The girl’s fingers are parted from the piano’s keys one by one, her chin raises up and she runs a hand to place back the loosened strands of her hair behind her ear. Still sitting, the girl’s head makes a turn toward Yena who’s stood still in front of the counter, with a drink tray close to her body in her left hand.

The girl lets out a quiet “ah”, registering that her drink is already there. So she stands up, quickly walking over towards Yena’s direction.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice earlier. You see… I get too carried away whenever I play the piano.” The girl’s eyes beams as she speaks, and she then presses her lips together, letting out a soft hum. “Umm, may I?” asks the girl, eyes widening up at the sight of the rocks glass.

Yena blinks, slowly drawing back into reality. “Uh-oh, yes, please enjoy your drink,” she responds, still trying to put a smile on her face—though it ends up awkwardly. There’s something that bugs her mind but she leaves that to dwell for later.

The girl wraps her fingers around the glass then, taking it away from the serving tray. She raises it toward her nose, smelling and taking in the tint of aroma that comes out from the orange and lemon skin. The perky, lively, and uplifting smell makes her lower lip sticks onto the glass, and her upper lip parts, turning into an oval shape. She takes a timid sip. And slowly but surely the girl starts to drink her cocktail.

Meanwhile Yena is looking at her moderately, watching the girl’s throat swallowing and downing the marmalade-colored fluid in such an excessive manner.

The girl keeps on chugging without a pause, as if she has been thirsty for the whole day. Although Yena is sure the alcohol must have burned her tongue and throat down, the girl just doesn’t stop. So Yena keeps on watching her, seeing the ice ball playfully touches the girl’s upper lip, reflecting the thin, rosy lip of hers that Yena herself finds it—attractive.

One shot. The girl finishes in a clear one shot and she lowers the glass then, returning it to the tray that Yena has been holding all this time along. The ice ball bouncing back against the empty glass’ base, its clinking sound lingers in the air between Yena and the other girl. Their eyes are locked for a split second before Yena averts her eyes onto the vinyl tile below her, realizing that she shouldn’t have stared at her, at a customer while they drink. Meanwhile the latter’s tongue slips out from , the remaining taste on her own lips.

“That was refreshing,” she expresses, “thank you, kind bartender.”

Her voice makes Yena’s head turn up at her once again. She takes out her money from her dainty-looking purse, putting it on the tray then giving an audacious wink at Yena. “Keep the change to yourself,” she urges, giving one last look before turning her back around. She proceeds on her way to exit the lounge.