Their vacant elevator was descending from the 12th floor then and Mark's heart clenched in his chest at her question, no matter how it was intended, and he could only do a soft mirthless laugh as he slowly wrapped his hand around her tight fist by her side. They both looked down at their hands, Mark surprised at how well Yerin's fit into his, and Yerin surprised at the sudden contact. They met each others' eyes and Mark slowly leaned in, his intention clear. Upset, Yerin turned her head away and looked at the floor, her hair covering her face, and she pulled her hand from Mark's. Mark blinked and stopped his advance, feeling dejected, furrowing his brows deeply.