Bulletproof ain't my type

Professionalism

I do not want to work with Fa Fengh.

No.

Nope.

Nada.

Two soft knocks, followed by, "sunbae?"

Don't hiss don't hiss don't hiss.

"Yes?", I looked carefully over my shoulder. She was standing outside the open door, peeking in from the side. She wasn't wearing a wig this time, but her hair was definitely longer. It was black now, fringe pushed to the side. The hand resting on my door was covered till the wrists which was a welcome change. Right until she stepped into view and showed off her denim shorts which, of course. Was I really expecting anything different?

The producer I was talking to stood up. "That's it for today. I'll see you around"
He nodded at Fengh. She nodded at him as he left, bangs falling in front of her face. She tucked them behind her ear, turning to me.
"Good evening", she said, surprisingly.

I nodded in reply.

"Should I close the door?"

I shrugged. 

She turned and gently clicked it shut. She stood there by the door, one hand over the other. A soft full-sleeved blouse in a pretty teal, hair brushing her neck. She wasn't wearing shoes, fuzzy grey socks covering her ankles.

huh.

"so..."

Her voice brought me back to her face. She was standing still; stiff, almost.

She cast a look around the room before looking back to me. "what happened?"

I contemplated before answering. "I lost my artist"

She nodded with some deep understanding. "My condolences"

And it's just her, isn't it? It's not the words or how they're put. She just sounds so cynical prideful and aloof about every other thing, doesn't she?

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to be annoyed at every breath out of her mouth. 

"It does throw a wrench in things", I remarked. And then I stalled, rubbing my palms, scratching my head. She was still standing there.

...sullying the atmosphere with her presence. Where's my air purifier?

Okay Min Yoongi that's enough.

I cleared my throat.

"Do you wanna...", I gesticulated at the empty chair, the bean bag and the mini sofa, "..take a seat...?"

She took deliberate steps to the bean bag and plopped down upon it. Knees pressed together, back straight. She has some pretty scary talents, I'll give her that.
The bean bag was at a considerable distance from my desk. I would tell her to take the chair, but that would put her right next to me so yeah.
Cool.

 I swiveled my chair to face her properly.

Her hands were in her lap, which went great with this new polite aesthetic she had going, but it bothered me. I wasn't comfortable with it.

"Nice socks"

She looked at me blankly and ah, that's familiar. 

"You're supposed to say thank you", I supplied.

She blinked. "Thank you"

"See?", I smirked. "it wasn't that hard"

She just looked.

Okay, then.

"What are you doing nowadays?"

She didn't say anything right away, but her lips loosened. As if she was taken off-guard by the question.

Sue me if I can't work like a machine.