Bargain (Not Met) (JungHope)

Interlude - Encounter(s)

Hoseok stumbled through the company building's main entrance, bag whipping around hazardously behind him. He pulled the bag out from behind him and dug deep into one of the front pockets in search of his I.D. card, occasionally glancing upward to make sure he was walking toward the security check and not into a wall. (Or worse, his manager.) A wisp of a sigh blew past his lips in relief when he felt the familiar plastic that covered his cheaply made card.

Tugging the lanyard out from whatever it had gotten itself tangled up in, Hoseok slowed his swift pace and greeted the security worker that stood beside the I.D. scanner with what he hoped was a cheerful smile and pulled the rest of his I.D. card out from the bag's pocket. The security worker merely gave him a curt nod and slight jerk of her head toward the scanner, her facial expression not once shifting from the cold, hard stare she had been putting up since her first day on the job. Hoseok sighed internally and shoved the end of his I.D. into the scanner, jerking it right back out when an affirmative beep pierced his eardrums. Pushing past the metal bar that would have stood rigidly in his way had he not have an official I.D., Hoseok gave the security worker one last wave of his hand in farewell, receiving another blank stare in return, and hustled down to where the elevators stood in a row.

Jamming his thumb into the "up" button for the elevator, Hoseok situated himself so that he didn't end up looking like he literally just got out of bed; checking his reflection on the elevator's door, Hoseok ruffled his damp mop of hair, growling when the defiant mane fell limply back against his scalp; making quick work of his unevenly buttoned shirt, Hoseok attempted to try and play it off as though his shoulders, chest, and back weren't wholly exposed thanks to the hasty drying of his body.

But then something even more interesting than his shirt's condition caught his eye: a dark mark on the side of his neck.

He would have probably stood there all day just to try and see what the hell he did to his neck within the past forty hours, but the familiar ding of the elevator graced his ears, and the doors groaned before opening with a violent shudder. Hoseok scanned the cramped space of the lift and thanked the Heavens that it was empty, seeing how he didn't want to get noticed by anyone in his current appearance. With a single stride, Hoseok entered the elevator and turned to the wall that held the buttons for the various floors.

He had been seconds away from pressing the "2nd" floor button when a sudden, "Hold the door!" echoed from out and around the lift. Hoseok tensed, cursing himself for having such bad luck; while he wanted to take the gentlemanly course of action and politely press the "keep open" button, he also wanted to smash the "close doors" button and go up to his office's floor in peace and quiet.

Of course, there wasn't any room for arguments when the earlier shout suddenly appeared into an actual person; one that was sweating profusely and bent over panting just beside Hoseok. But it wasn't so much the fact that the man was visibly physically exhausted. Oh no, it was who the man was that bothered Hoseok so: it was his shitty manager.

Fuck me, Hoseok wailed internally, gritting his teeth and swiftly pressing the button that would take him and his manager to the second floor.

Silently regretting all his life choices that had led up to that exact moment, Hoseok shuffled as far away from his manager as he could get in the cramped space and timidly stared off into the corner, admiring all the little dust bunnies that various janitors must have missed. (Or ignored.)

It wasn't until the panting had ceased and a sudden spark of light appeared in front of Hoseok when he finally tore his eyes away from the accursed corner; instead, he stared at his now upright manager who had his finger placed firmly atop the button for the fifth floor. Hoseok's eyes widened as he silently wondered why his manager wasn't going to his office floor; it was the only place he had any authority over, so he tended to do the majority of his work near the front desk just to chastise and make everyone feel miserable. Not to mention the fact that the fifth floor was where the boss' office was, and only people who held significant business with the boss was allowed to meet him. (He usually dealt with trivial matters over e-mail or video conference.)