“Are you sure about this?” Miyeon asked as the bell above the door rang. 

“Would you stop—” Shuhua slapped the thick padding covering Miyeon’s arm. “—moving.” 

“I’m sorry it’s just… needles make me nervous.” 

Watching the second last patron leave, Shuhua grumbled, “You aren’t going to be that moral support that passes out are you? Because if you are—”

“No!” The woman at the counter dropped her card. “I mean,” tugging up the edges of her scarf, Miyeon sheepishly replied, “I think it’ll be fine. How bad could it be, right?” 

Plastic care bag in hand, the woman approached them, “Sorry, you sound a lot like this celebrity, Cho Miyeon. She has the most beautiful voice. Are you…”

Shuhua snickered, “Don’t get her hopes up.” Rolling her eyes, she dragged on, “When she sings in the shower, it sounds like cats are dying.”

Eyes widening to the size of saucers, the woman bowed three, four… five times. “I’m so sorry!” 

When she scurried out of the shop, Miyeon pouted. “Does it really sound like dying cats?” 

“Only on days ending in y.”

The shop owner locked the door, chuckling at the pair, “Ready?”

Plodding over to the chair the tattoo artist motioned to, Shuhua griped, “If Miyeon faints, can I leave her there until she wakes up?” 

Instruments laid out, the bald man shook his head. “Sorry, Shuhua, we’ll have to pick her up.” 

Miyeon smiled, “Thank you oppa!” 

He nodded. “Now,