Ruby Red (K. HJ)

Ruby Red (K. HJ) (m)

It was difficult work being a female bartender, and this fact was proven every time there was a rush night. You worked in a rather popular luxurious night club in downtown Seoul, and the influx of male clientele this particular night has you wishing you'd chosen literally any other career path. It was a nice club, but apparently the opulence failed to dull the vulgarity that festered in the minds of the wealthy men. It was times like these, among many others, that made it difficult to bartend for alcoholic rich douchebags. 

  You couldn't complain too much, you loved bartending and it put a roof over your head. You just wished their attention could be turned elsewhere.

  After several incidents of men getting too grabby when you were passing them their drinks, you're positively worn out. The club is still fairly full despite nearing closing time, men in luxurious suits and women in tight, short dresses that were most likely worth more than your yearly rent. They're scattered, nursing their drinks either in booths or on the floor, and you're thankful that you have a moment to breathe.

  A sigh leaves your mouth as you scrub a particularly stubborn spot on the counter, a furrow in your brow and condensation forming on your hairline from the exertion.

  "What's got my best bartender's mood down? Where's that smile I love so much?" A sultry, silky dulcet timbre snaps you from your cleaning. Looking to the source, you find your boss, Hongjoong, standing confidently with a hand running through his perfectly kempt honey brown locks just in front of the counter. The screech of a barstool is heard, and he situates himself comfortably in the seat directly in front of the spot you were cleaning. You're so enamoured by the sight of his seemingly ethereal aura, that you almost forget to acknowledge his presence.

  "Hi, boss. What can I do for you? Whiskey on the rocks like usual?" You question hurriedly, wiping the sweat off your brow and plastering a small smile on your lips. The rag is deposited quickly below the counter, and you fix your shirt which has begun to come untucked slightly. You look frazzled, exhausted, and you're trying your best not to let him see you looking a mess. It'd be bad for the clientele.

  He smiles, a thousand dollar smile shining brightly and your heart throbs at the sight. Hongjoong is handsome, to put it plainly. He was dirty rich, and his appearance reflected it. You'd never seen him look unkempt, always wrapped in the most expensive looking silk suits, diamonds and jewels lining each of his fingers, as well as his ears. He kept his hair relatively long for a man, but never unruly. His nails were always painted as well, though the colour varied. You noticed when they were red however, he was especially flirty with his words. The man looked positively regal at all times, and you often found it difficult to rid your stomach of the butterflies when he was in your vicinity. Now, there was a lot more to the man than just his looks, he was also intelligent and a great conversationalist, and that was only scratching the surface of his qualities. The man knew words. Perhaps too well, sometimes.

  "I don't need a thing, love. Just a few moments in your presence and I'll be all set." He winks, and you flush.

  "Now, tell me. What's got you stressed, baby? You know I don't like it when you're down." His voice sends a shiver up your spine, the pet words doing well to strip the moisture from your mouth. He used them with everyone, but that fact didn't stop you from relishing in the way they rolled off his tongue dangerously.

With your smile slightly faltering you shake your head. "I'm okay, sir! This spot's just bothering me." You let the lie slip easily, gesturing to the spot on the counter. Hongjoong clicks his tongue at your blatant lie.

  "Mm, don't lie, doesn't suit you. Someone in here bothering you?" His tone is suddenly serious and it has your eyes drifting to meet his own. The way he's looking is dark, and his focus is entirely on every twitch of a muscle in your expression. Curse the way he could read people.