"Soojin! Your favourite customer is here!" 

Arms folded on her office desk, Soojin frowns. She doesn’t have favourites. Or, at least, ones that come to mind three hours into reviewing the numbers from the last quarter to the previous year. 

"Huh?" The response is about as graceful as the way she peers over the rim of her glasses that have slid down her nose. 

From the doorway, Miyeon chuckles. "Your favourite?" She repeats like saying the same thing a second time will magically mean something different. "Seaweed soup girl?" 

The furrow between her brow deepens. "She's not my favourite," Soojin stresses as she clicks save. Tidying up her desk, she deadpans, "She's a mess." 

"Uh huh." There's a long drawn out way to how Miyeon replies. The sarcastic, but cute sort. "She's at her usual table. And guess what she ordered?" Despite the question, Miyeon pauses only for theatrics as she follows Soojin down the short hall, "Seaweed soup!" 

Apron in hand, Soojin shakes her head as she enters the kitchen. "So?" She nods at her staff hustling to prepare the second dinner rush. "Why does that matter?" 

"It doesn't," Miyeon sing songs, hands clasped behind her back as she dances on the balls of her feet. 

Brow raised Soojin questions, "What are you doing? Isn't there a job we pay you to do?" In the corner of the kitchen where the soups are made, she adds a few adjustments to the final broth. It's quality control, nothing mo