Charity sits in the passenger seat of her own car, arms crossed tightly across her chest. She’s staring out the window, deliberately away from Kim Jong Kook.

Jong Kook knows she’s mad, but doesn’t care. The relief from earlier hasn’t worn off, and the absence of burning rage feels like bubbles rising up in him. He’s nearly giddy, his mood a complete opposite of Charity’s own.

“I’m not going to have with you, you know,” she says abruptly.

“All right,” he answers agreeably.

“I’m serious. I’m not going to.”

“That’s just fine.”

“I mean it, Kim Jong Kook-ssi. I’m not having with you.”

“I believe you.” He can tell she’s aggravated and pushing him for a response, but isn’t rising to the bait. He’s honestly not bothered by her statements at all, just happy to be out of the club, out of the situation, and on their way home.

She huffs out an angry breath.

“What the hell, man?”

Jong Kook shrugs and she turns to look at him. They stop at a red light and he turns his head to smile at her. She huffs again and turns away.

They ride in silence to Charity’s apartment and all the way back upstairs. She waits for him to open the door, then storms in past him, throwing her purse to the ground and flinging herself onto one of the couches. She drapes an arm over her eyes.

Jong Kook watches her with amusement, finding that he’s suddenly unruffled by her more angry moods. He takes the time to pick up her purse from the floor and hang it on the banister, then goes to the kitchen. Fetching two bottles of water, a bottle of soju, and a shot glass, he heads over to the living area and sits on the couch opposite her. He opens all three bottles, keeps a bottle of water for himself, and sets the rest on the coffee table between the two couches.

She lifts her arm and peeks out from beneath it.

“Your choice,” he says, gesturing to the water and soju.

With a glare, she snatches up the soju and shot glass. Jong Kook tsks and takes the bottle from her, pouring her a shot. She stares at him as she drains it and holds out the glass for another.

“I’m not having with you,” she says as he pours.

“So you’ve said.”

“As long as we’re clear.”

“Crystal clear,” he agrees. “But…,” he starts.

She raises a brow at him as she drains the second shot and pours herself a third.

“You were going to have with someone tonight, right?”

She shrugs, then nods. “Yeah, probably.”

“So why not me? I mean, I’m not saying we should. Just… why someone else?”

“I don’t generally have with men who carry me out of clubs against my will.”

“Well, one, you were going to have with someone else before I did that. And two, you could have stayed.”

“You carried me out!,” she exclaims, eyes burning at him.

He ignores her flare of temper. “That I did,” he agrees, taking a sip of his water. “But then you waited at the valet stand with me while they fetched the car. And you got in the car. And you didn’t tell me to turn around. And you didn’t ask to be let out anywhere on the way.”

“Yes, well…,” she trails off and scowls, going straight for the bottle instead of the shot glass this time.

“Yes, well,” he says back, grinning.

“It’s not because I wanted to have with you,” she states adamantly.

“I’ve gotten the point. But my question remains, why someone else if I’m right here?”

She sighs deeply and rubs her hands over her face. When she pulls them away, she notices the makeup smeared all over them. She stands. “I’m going to wash my face.”

He stands, too. “I’ll come with you.”

She rolls her eyes and stalks away. Instead of heading up the stairs, she goes into the guest bathroom in the hall, wobbling ever so slightly on her way.

“Your sink broken again?,” he asks.

“Always,” she groans. “ing thing. Sorry.”

He doesn’t comment and follows her into the bathroom, flicking on the light.

She looks at herself in the mirror for a moment, then meets his eyes in the glass. He breaks the silent eye contact first, rummaging through the bottles and tubs on the counter.

“This one first, right?,” he asks, twisting the silver lid off a squat purple jar and handing it to her.

She eyes him in surprise but nods, taking it from him. He watches her spread a white paste over her face, rubbing it in. The makeup smears more, but clean skin is revealed underneath. Once satisfied, she leans over to rinse.

“Did you find her?,” she asks abruptly.

“Yeah, she had to leave.”

“Really? Are you sure you didn’t just chicken out?” Her voice is burbly through the water running over her face. He passes her a towel.

“Can we talk about her tomorrow, when you sober?”

“Sure,” she replies, and he’s shocked she drops it so easily.

“Back to what we were talking about.” He passes her the next step in her nightly skincare routine and leans his hips against the counter next to her.

“What’s that?,” she asks. Her eyes are getting hazier and he knows those last few pulls on the soju bottle are settling in.

“Why someone else, if I’m right here?” He braces himself to be shouted at, for some kind of snarky reply.

She bends over the sink again. “You know, I was a when I met my husband?”

“I -- wha -- I, no, no