The chatter of the restaurant is polite. Silverware clinks against ceramic dishes and waiting staff circle round, doting and eager to serve. At the table, Soojin bores holes in the linen table cloth. Across from her Miyeon sits, her features disguised beneath a calm, collected mask of faux interest. 

"Good evening ladies, may I offer a bottle of wine? Our red for this evening—" 

"Water would be wonderful," Miyeon interjects. To the waiter, her features are soft and easy to digest. But when he is gone, out of sight and hearing range, her features fall to cold indifference. "Is your plan to sit here in silence or is there a reason you went out of your way to arrange this?" 

The waiter returns with two glasses of water. Like a puppy, he appears eager to please, clinging to the gratitude Miyeon offers for the tall glasses. 

As he retreats, unspoken curiosity painted in his eyes, Soojin begins, "I… You once said we were more alike than I knew. " The words start out slow but build with confidence, "What did you mean?" 

Finger brushing the rim of the glassware, Miyeon is sluggish to respond. "It means many things, Soojin-ah," the nickname is a murky pool riddled with unknown horrors. "Do be more specific."

Table tucked off in the corner, away from the traffic of the other patrons and the waiting staff, Soojin speaks like the china place settings have ears, “Shuhua isn’t planning to stay in New York.” When Miyeon doesn’t object, Soojin meets her gaze. Her lips curl into a self deprecating smile and her laugh is a hollow bark. “But she told you about our conversation before she left, didn’t she?”

Sipping her water like it’s fine wine, Miyeon shrugs. 

Soojin takes two deep breaths and, pinching the bridge of her nose, asks, “So what is it? We’re both idiots? Caring for globe-trotting fools who think what? That we’ll just give up everything to follow them?” There is a disconnect between the frustration in her words and her outer demeanour. 

“One of us is certainly an idiot,” Miyeon flippantly replies . Her eyes stir with the makings of a dark storm though her tone is syrupy, “You’ve had five weeks to mull over your thoughts and this is all you can produce? That I gave up the life I had - my passions, my pursuits - to gallivant after Nicha and that Shuhua is asking you to do the same?” 

Like a blaze doused in retardant, Soojin shrinks. Her shoulders droop and the exhaustion of the previous weeks creeps in, “Yes? No? I don’t know, okay?” Fingers digging into the fabric of her skirt, Soojin waits for her frustrations to ebb, “Everything is just…” her hands loop circles through the open air, “And talking to you is like… it’s like I don’t know who the hell I’ll meet. Is it Jekyll or Hyde? You have this beautiful semblance on the surface, but this underneath who's just waiting to—”

“You truly know how to win a woman’s heart, don’t you Soojin-ah? Is this how you treat my Shuhua?”

“ y—”

“Are we ready to order?” The waiter asks merrily, blind to the tension at the table.

“We’re terribly