The two in the front seat whip their heads around to meet Kwang Soo’s panicked look.

“Kwang Soo? What’s happening?” Jong Kook is waking up, trying to stretch his legs in the cramped back seat, looking startled when his feet slam against the opposite door.

Kwang Soo looks back and forth between his accomplices with wide eyes, waiting for the two frozen lumps of useless to say something, DO ANYTHING, then takes matters into his own hands.

He leans down and kisses Jong Kook dead on the mouth.

“Happy birthday, hyung! Yaaaaaaayy… aaaayy… aaay… “ he trails off, waving jazz hands lamely in the air above Jong Kook’s head, still in his lap.

Jong Kook stares back up at him, bewildered, then angry, then suddenly very pale. He launches himself from the backseat with an agility that would surprise anyone unfamiliar with his ability to pounce and starts losing what must have been his last two, or three, or four drinks on the ground outside the dimly lit wrought iron gate.

The three left inside the vehicle gawk at each other, communicating silently for a split second whether or not the best course of action is to flee with their lives now, then simultaneously scramble after Jong Kook, loyalty winning out.

Haha and Gary stand off to the side while Kwang Soo edges close to the Commander’s heaving back, holding out a bottle of water when the violence seems to be reaching an end. Jong Kook accepts it with a nod, turning slowly and leaning against the fence as he takes a hesitant couple of sips.

After a moment to compose himself, he looks back and forth between the two giant wieners huddled together a few steps away, Kwang Soo, and the vehicle parked on the side of the road, and immediately begins firing somewhat slurred, definitely confused questions.

“Where are we? What happened? Am I drunk? Did we break down? Were we going somewhere? Am I drunk? Why did you kiss me? Where were we going? What’s going on? Am I drunk?”

No one says anything.

Jong Kook straightens his back, stepping away from the fence.

Gary nudges Haha forward.

Haha scoots backward.

Gary nudges Haha forward a bit more forcefully.

Haha stumbles and attempts to play it off as a casual, bent over, I really have to poop-style kind of walk and ambles over to Kwang Soo, clinging to the taller man’s arm tightly.

“Did anyone call a… what’s it, the thing? With the car dragger on the end?” Jong Kook asks.

He starts to pat his pockets, seemingly oblivious to the odd, silent behavior of his friends.

“I don’t have my phone? Who has my phone? Did you take my phone?” He eyes Kwang Soo accusingly. “Did you kiss me so that you could steal my phone? I’ll buy you a phone, Kwang Soo.”

He rubs his large hands over his entire face clumsily.

“Just give me my phone back, you don’t have to kiss me to get me to take care of things you need, you are a dongsaeng I looooooove.”

“Hyung! No! I didn’t kiss-mug you! And I don’t have your --”

Kwang Soo leaps out of the way as a heavy-lidded Jong Kook launches himself forward on the slurred word “looooooove,” just barely missing being tackled to the ground in an over-aggressive show of drunken affection. His quick-footed dodge leads to Haha hitting the ground instead, the air rushing from his body in an audible FWHOOMP.

“Ah! Dong Hoon! Another dongsaeng I loooooove!” Jong Kook’s beaming smile turns to a terrifying expression of serious accusation in a split second. “Did you steal my phone?”

Haha struggles to breathe under the bulk of the larger man who, while he isn’t overly heavy, is certainly not doing much to support his own body weight at the moment.

“No,” he gasps out. “No, I don’t have your phone. And we don’t need a tow truck.”

“Yes! Tow truck!,” Jong Kook crows triumphantly, rolling to his back on top of Haha and sprawling out comfortably. “That’s what I said. Did you call a tow truck? Did we break down? Am I drunk? Uuwaahh, look at all the stars. Where are we? How did we get here? How did you fit so many stars in that car? Am I drunk?”

Haha is waving his arms and scrabbling his heels fruitlessly against the dusty ground, trying to gain either the attention of the slackjawed fools watching the scene (or, in Gary’s case, surreptitiously filming it on his cell phone) or else purchase against the dirt in order to scoot himself free from his predicament.

Kwang Soo finally snaps out of his trance brought on by being utterly charmed by a drunken Jong Kook and reaches down to give Ha Dong Hoon a hand, eventually wrestling the smaller free from his duties as impromptu roadside pillow. He begins brushing and swatting the dust off Haha’s clothes aggressively, using the slapping noises to cover the sound of his voice coming from the side of his mouth.

“Hyung. Tell him.” He continues to thud his enormous hands up and down Haha’s spine. “Don’t leave him lying there on the ground. This is your show. Come on.”

“Okay. Oof. Stop. I’m going to -- OKAY. STOP HITTING ME.”

“Who is hitting you!” Jong Kook leaps -- or at least, he thinks he leaps -- to his feet, wobbling unsteadily. He whips his head back and forth, seeking the culprit, causing Kwang Soo to rush forward and grab his elbow in support as the move unsteadies him further.

“Who is hitting my Ha Dong Hoonie? Am I drunk? Who hit you, my dongsaeng? You tell Kookie who hit you. I will handle it. Don’t worry, I will make it all better. Kwang Soo! Kiss Dong Hoon!”

Gary no longer knows or cares if his cell camera is picking up the whole scene, as his only concern now is staying upright. He’s bent nearly in half, one hand supporting his weight against the fence, entire face red with the effort of holding in his laughter.

Kwang Soo and Dong Hoon eye each other suspiciously. Kwang Soo shrugs and leans forward, lips puckered, only to meet the flat of Haha’s palm instead of his lips.

“No. No. No. Jong Kook, no one hit me. No one needs to kiss me better. It’s fine. The car isn’t broken down. We’ve brought you to a fortune teller for your birthday!” Haha tries to make that last bit sound especially positive and bright.

Jong Kook frowns. “But I don’t believe in fortune tellers. Why would you get me a fortune teller for my birthday? I don’t even have any space to keep a fortune teller.”

“No, I didn’t buy you a fortune teller. Look.” Haha gestures to the small, low house beyond the gate. “We’re at a fortune teller. We brought you here to find out about your soul mate.”

“Haha, it’s nice of you to think of me,” Jong Kook smiles crookedly, slinging a heavy arm over the shorter man’s shoulder. “but soul mates aren’t real. Besides, the stars are plenty. Put them back in the car, let’s go home.”

Gary finally steps forward from where he’s been lurking uselessly in the shadows observing the scene with barely contained glee.

“We’re here now, though, so let’s just go in. What’s the harm? It’s your birthday, hyung, let’s not go home yet. I’m having so much fun.” It’s true -- since murder doesn’t currently seem imminent, the whole scene has become more than a little amusing. Why not stretch it out a few moments longer?

Jong Kook considers this.

“Do fortune tellers have toilets? Guys, I don’t know if you noticed, but I think I’m a little drunk.”

After a few minutes of propping, coaxing, and catching, the group makes its way through the gate and down a short flagstone path through a well-kept front yard to the door of the home.

Haha reaches out to knock and the door swings open almost immediately. A nearly totally nondescript woman stands in the entry. She’s of average height for a woman, with dark, straight hair pulled back from her face and falling just past her shoulders. She wears a deep red dress, fitted on the top and flowing loosely from her hips to her bare feet. is turned in a welcoming smile. The corners of her eyes angle upward, the sharply evaluating expression the only real notable thing about her.

“Come in. I’m Ji Ji Min,” she says. “Come inside.”

“Let me guess,” Gary says somewhat edgily. “You sensed we were coming? You’ve been expecting us?”

“Well, yes,” Ji Min replies. “You have an appointment.”

“Oh.” Gary deflates.

The crew of three bustles their weaving load further into the small but uncluttered front room. Jong Kook is hazily scanning the room, clearly looking for something.

“Bathroom?,” Haha inquires.

“Right there on the left,” she gestures, and Jong Kook darts away. “Can I pour some tea for everyone?” They mumble their assent as they scan the room.

A table is set back against the wall opposite the door, in front of a large window covered in light, flowing white drapes. It’s flanked by two comfortable arm chairs sitting on a plush throw rug over the smooth planked floor. Ji Min approaches the table and busies herself with the steaming pot and cups that have been awaiting the group’s arrival.

To the left of the entry is the door to the bathroom and a short hallway leading deeper into the house. To the right, a folding paper screen with a light gray abstract pattern resembling feathers blocks off a corner of the room. Kwang Soo peers over it curiously. Behind, there’s a desk with a laptop and a small bookshelf filled with notebooks. Some are newer while some are clearly much, much older.

The rest of the room is very sparsely decorated. A few frames on the larger walls contain black and white scenic photographs, but, much like the woman herself, nothing particularly notable. Two more chairs are paired together in the corner opposite the desk with a small table between them, but other than that, there’s nothing.

Gary leans to Haha to mutter quietly, “This place is pretty short on woo woo, man.”

Haha only shrugs in response as Ji Min turns back around just as Jong Kook exits the bathroom, looking slightly more clear headed.

“Sit down, everyone,” she directs. Surprisingly, not even Jong Kook argues.

Gary and Kwang Soo immediately dart to the two separate chairs off to the side in the corner, leaving Haha and Jong Kook to sit at the table more toward the center of the room. Ji Min carries cups of tea to the two wannabe deserters in the corner before moving to stand in the middle of the room.

“So,” she launches in without preamble. “Ha Dong Hoon called me?”

Haha inches his hand into the air timidly. It’s strange, but something about the angle and expression of her eyes combined with her str