❄ Cold Relations ❄ [SEVENTEEN] ✓

Chapter 20: Drip, Drop (i.e. Vernon, the Salt Shaker)

As evening swung around, Hoshi, Woozi, and The8 gathered in Room 217 to finish off the rest of the leftover Bing. Flatbread smothered in sugary soy sauce was a counterintuitive combination, yet it turned out to be a scrumptious meal.

Woozi helped himself to another serving of Bing, picking it up with his hand and licking his fingers clean.

Hoshi reared back at his friend's lack of table manners. "Aish, Jihoon! Use your chopsticks!"

"Who eats pancakes with chopsticks?" Jihoon scoffed through a mouthful of flatbread. "You're too old-fashioned. And anyways, haven't you seen me eat? It's been six years. I thought you'd be used to it by now."

"Getting used to something and accepting it are two entirely different things, just to let you know."

Jihoon swallowed but didn't pause in inhaling his food. "I see how it is."

"How about a talent show?" Hoshi piped up after a while; he watched their faces closely for a reaction.

Woozi set down his chopsticks; he'd tried to humor Hoshi and eat with them, but when he stabbed a piece of flatbread, it just flopped right back onto the plate. "'Talent show?' What do you mean?"

"It's not polite to answer a question with a question, Jihoonie—"

Woozi's head snapped up. "What did you just call me?"

"What?" Hoshi coughed and sputtered into his fist, then banged his chest and went on with it for a little too long. "Woozi," he wheezed. "I said Woozi. Anyways, I'm asking you if you want to take part in something fun to help pass the time, like hosting a talent show, for instance."

Jihoon threw up his hands and sighed. "Why not?"

"What about Vernon?" The8 asked. Hansol was still in bed, snuggled under the covers, his back to them. "Won't we be making too much noise, if he's asleep?"

"I'm not sleeping," Hansol muttered. "I'm just suffering."

Hoshi placed his hands on his knees and sat forward on the sofa. "Well, now that that's settled, let's begin."

Woozi was doubtful. "What are the rules?"

"As long as you come up with a talent, there are none."

"I'm a songwriter. I write songs. What else do you expect from me?"

"If you can't supply us with a talent, I'm afraid you'll have to show us some aegyo."

"Ehhh," Woozi griped, "don't you think you're asking too much?"

"You're the one that wanted to play. Now, let's see that wondrous talent of yours."

It is a known fact that Jihoon will do anything to avoid aegyo. So, on the spot, he came up with a very interesting snapping technique, in which his fingers moved in a blur.

Woozi looked hopeful. "So?"

Hoshi bowed his head. "I am amused."

Jihoon exhaled a breath of relief and slouched back on the sofa.

"All right, Myungho—your turn."

The8 bit his lip and racked his brain for anything out of the ordinary, but he could think of one thing only: "I can speak Mandarin."

Woozi aggressively raised his hand. "I object! If speaking a language is a talent, I would have shown off my English skills."

"You don't have any English skills," The8 retorted.