The icy standoff between Jong Kook and Miranda only lasts a couple of moments longer before Zoe and Charity come trooping down the stairs. Zoe’s been changed into simple shorts and a t-shirt with a cartoon cat emblazoned across the front, her long hair slicked back in a neat ponytail. The pair haven’t even made it all the way down the stairs before Miranda is fluttering toward them, clucking over Zoe’s hair.

“Oh, Zoe, we don’t want your hair like this, do we? It looks so much better down.”

“I like the way Mama did it, Mimi.” Zoe swats the older woman’s hands away from her hair as she reaches the bottom of the steps. Jong Kook doesn’t miss the smirk that passes over Charity’s face, though she attempts to hide it as she bends down to pick up a small backpack in the shape of a cat’s face and slides Zoe’s arms through each of the straps.

“Ok.” Charity stands behind Zoe and rests her hands on her shoulders. “Her backpack has sunglasses and a hat if the sun gets really strong, but I did already slather her up in sunscreen. The sunscreen is in there as well. Please make sure she drinks plenty of wa--”

“I believe I know how to care for my grandchild, Charity,” Miranda huffs.

“--ter,” Charity finishes without flinching. “No pizza. No french fries. No carbs, Miranda, I mean it.” Her tone seems neutral on the surface but steel runs beneath. “I’ve put some snacks in her bag, so she’ll have plenty to eat. Maybe burgers for lunch?” Charity bends, flipping her face upside down in front of Zoe’s. “A cheeseburger with a million pickles?”

Zoe giggles up at her mother. Miranda shifts her weight impatiently.

“All right, Zo-bo. You have a good day. Listen to your grandmother. Don’t wander off. Don’t talk to strangers. And don’t let anyone with bad eyebrows --”

“-- tell you about life!,” Zoe finishes enthusiastically.

“Really, Charity? Really?” Miranda is unimpressed.

Charity ignores her and drops to the ground in front of Zoe to give her a tight hug. “That’s my girl. Buckle up tight. You can call me any time. Tonight we’ll cook dinner together and watch movies in our pajamas, okay? Be good. I’ll see you soon.” With one last squeeze, she stands up and has barely taken half a step back from Zoe before Miranda snatches up the girl’s hand.

“Let’s go, Zoe Miranda! We’re going to have a great day, right?” She leads her to the front door without so much as a backward glance at Charity.

“Right, Mimi!” Zoe starts chattering animatedly, her voice fading quickly as the door opens and closes again. Charity stares at the door for a long moment before shaking herself and returning to the kitchen, busying herself with putting the breakfast dishes in the sink.

Jong Kook watches her, noting her blank expression. He scrambles for something to say, silence stretching across the space.

Finally, after giving the dishes a quick rinse, Charity speaks, her back to him. “She’s really something, huh? Sorry you had to deal with her.”

“Oh no, no… I don’t mind,” he responds. “She’s… you’re right. She’s really something. Zoe’s really beautiful, though.”

“Isn’t she?,” Charity agrees shamelessly, grinning as she turns, drying her hands on a dishtowel. “She’s the best.” Charity looks at the clock on the kitchen wall. “Can you be ready to leave in about five or ten minutes? I’ve got to do a coffee run before we hit the set.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. Just need to grab my bag.”

“All right. Just have to run upstairs and get my own stuff. Meet you back here in a few.” She hangs the dishtowel over the oven door handle and jogs up the steps to her room.

Jong Kook watches her go. She seems largely unbothered by her encounter with her mother in law this morning, when yesterday it was clear she’d been torn up one side and down the other by the woman. He’s abashed anew when he realizes that the difference between the two occasions was that one time he was there and one time he wasn’t. It was right what Charity had said the other day - she’s a strong woman, but needed to feel like she had someone in her corner when up against Miranda.

Shaking himself loose from his thoughts, he crosses the apartment to his own room. He pulls the bag he usually takes to work from beneath the bed, then looks around the room. His own belongings are scattered over the dresser and nightstand, the room looking more like his every day. He briefly considers packing up quickly, his mind revisting the awkward moments of the day before. Charity didn’t seem like she wanted him to get out, though. In fact, she almost seemed even more friendly than usual. He decides to see how the ride out to the shoot goes and decide from there whether or not he’s still welcome in Charity’s apartment after his failure to be there for her the day before.

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he walks back out to the main room of the apartment just as Charity is pulling her own bedroom door shut and bounc