Jong Kook wakes up late the next morning. Late for him, anyway. Though he has no schedule until later in the morning, he's accustomed to waking before the sun no matter what the plans for the day are. However, he'd stayed up late the night before, deep in conversation with Kwang Soo. His kind-hearted friend had immediately forgotten his annoyance once Jong Kook had barreled him to the floor. He couldn't help it, he was so happy for his friend's happiness and had all the time in the world to listen to Jong Kook ramble on about his hopes for the future and how he imagined things would play out with Hannah. It was closing in on two when the pair finally separated for the evening.

Even with the hour so late, Jong Kook was restless and unable to sleep immediately. Having talked every aspect of the Hannah situation to death with Kwang Soo, he couldn't help but drift back to the uncomfortable moment with Charity earlier that evening. Something about her attitude just grates on him, even in the very few interactions they've had. He feels like he's been nothing but kind to her - unrecalled instances set aside - and he gets back nothing but venom. That's no excuse for what he said, of course. He winced just thinking about it, half disgusted with himself for saying something so unkind and half aggravated with himself for sinking to what he considers to be her level. Regardless, an apology was in order and he reclined quietly in the dark, straining his ears at every little sound, listening for her to come home. She didn't, and he eventually fell asleep shortly after 3am.

That's how he came to find himself waking up just before 6, more exhausted now than when he went to sleep. He curses his inability to sleep in even after only a couple hours of restless sleep. His head pounds and he excuses himself from the gym, mentally promising to hit it twice as hard the next day. Slipping a loose sleeveless shirt over his bare chest, he opens the door to Charity's guest room and heads to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Making his way through the still-dim apartment, he freezes upon hearing rustling in the kitchen, then squints as the lights suddenly flip on. Standing in front of the fridge with an enormous glass of water is a woman with her back to him, tousled dark hair falling all the way down to her lower back. She's wearing skin tight black leggings and a black moto jacket. She sets the water on the counter and cranes her head to the right, sliding the jacket off of her shoulder and apparently trying to peer at her own back.

Jong Kook approaches quietly, saying, "Uh, hello?"

She turns around and Jong Kook is taken aback - though he shouldn't have been surprised - to be face to face with Charity. Her eyes are ringed with heavy black liner smudged along her lashes, winging out dramatically at the corners. The remnants of red lipstick are faded onto her lips and her hair is rioting as if alive itself. She catches sight of him and slides her jacket back onto her shoulder, but not before he catches sight of what she was trying to see.

"Are those bite marks? Are you wearing makeup? Why do you have so much HAIR?" He fires questions at her rapidly, unable to process a totally different Charity so early in the morning.

She winces and stays silent as she downs her enormous glass of water. Jong Kook makes it the rest of the way toward the kitchen and reaches for his own glass, taking an involuntary step back at the odor of alcohol surrounding Charity.

She sets her glass down and holds her hand out for his, filling them both. "Why do you have so many words coming out of your face?," she moans, closing her eyes and making an enormous dent in her fresh glass of water.

"Are you just getting home?," he asks.

"Yes, mother," she says mockingly.

He feels his temper flash but holds it in, remembering the circumstances under which she left the night before. She sets her glass in the sink and eyes him up and down briefly before turning to leave.

"Wait," he says, reaching out and catching her by the shoulder. She hisses through her teeth and cringes under his hand, but he doesn't let go, drawing her backward gently. He eases the jacket back off her shoulder and slides the strap of her tank top aside, eyes widening at the broken skin surrounded by a darkening bruise. "This is a bite mark. Do you have a first aid kit?"

She tries to shrug his hand loose, but he remains firm. 

"Who bit you?"

She snorts, huffing out an incredulous puff of air.

He sighs, practically freezing to death in the frigid waves of annoyance pouring off of Charity's tense body.

"Fine. Let me clean it for you, though." He flexes his fingers on her upper arm, making it clear he has no intention of taking no for an answer. 

She gets the message. "In the bathroom, under the sink."

"Wait here." He jogs the short distance to the bathroom and pulls the first aid kit from the cabinet quickly, hurrying back to make sure she has no time to vanish up to her room. Surprisingly, she's exactly where he left her when he returns to the kitchen. "Sit here," he instructs, nodding to a stool at the island counter. He can tell she wants to disobey, bristling under his command, but she shocks him by doing it anyway, hopping up onto the stool and arranging herself with her back to him. She shrugs out of her jacket, letting it drop carelessly to the floor.

He slides the strap of the tanktop off her shoulder and hesitates for a second before sliding her bra strap out of the way as well. He whistles low as he assesses the damage. Indentations of a full set of teeth are visible, some just denting the skin but at least four marks have clearly broken through. The area is puffy and red with purple splotches seeming to deepen almost in front of his eyes. He sets the first aid kit on the counter and flips it open, rummaging through for some antibiotic cream. He finds a new tube and sets it on the counter.

"I'm going to clean it first, okay?" He doesn't wait for an answer and heads over to the sink, looking around for a cloth.

"Drawer to the right," Charity says.

"Ah." He pulls open the drawer and grabs a couple of thin dishcloths, wetting one and squeezing a small amount of antibacterial soap onto it. He leaves the other dry and carries both back around the counter. "This might hurt," he tells the disheveled woman, placing a steadying hand on her uninjured shoulder. She flinches as he starts to gently dab at the wound, marvelling at the depth of a couple of the punctures. "You actually might want to see a doctor for this," he says hesitantly. She shakes her head silently and he continues, doing his best to ensure the bite wound is as clean as possible, then drying it with the second cloth.

"How did this happen?," he asks, focused on his work of uncapping the antibiotic ointment and squeezing out a small amount. She laughs sardonically as he spreads the gel over the worst of the broken skin.

"I... made a small error in judgement," she responds, and he can hear the amusement in her voice. 

"But what were you doing?" He lays a piece of gauze over the spreading bruise and uses his other hand to find the medical tape still in the kit. She stays stiff under his hands, her spine looking like a steel rod.

She looks over her shoulder at him and smirks. He immediately flushes bright red.

"Never mind," he mumbles, securing the gauze pad to her skin with a few pieces of tape. "That will need to be changed later today," he tells her, noting a couple tiny dots of blood visible on the white gauze as he presses it secure with his hand. Their fingers brush as they both reach to pull her bra and shirt back onto her shoulder and he quickly pulls his away. She slides down from the stool as she fixes her clothing back into place and turns to face him.

She