𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓐𝓼 𝓘𝓬𝓮 [𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖊]

13

Rosé Park pushed the sunglasses up on her forehead and pinch the bridge of her nose in a futile effort to vanquish the tension that had been sitting there for what seems like days. Her usual calm practicality had abandoned her, and every time she was on the verge of achieving her normal sangfroid, Ms. Jennie Kim would pop up and blow it all to hell.

She was right-she should have kill her and get it over with. She could think of no way out of the current mess, and the more she struggled the tighter the bonds. She knew it would happen sooner or later-that an innocent would get caught in the crossfire. She was far from the only closer in the Committee, and everyone else took collateral damage in their stride. Why wouldn't she?

She could tell herself it was a matter of professional pride. If she was good at her job, then only the guilty would pay the price.
But she never lied to herself, and she knew that was only part of the problem. She could live with killing an innocent, if it was for the greater good. It was a decision faced by soldiers everyday.

She just didn't know if she could live without Jennie Kim in this sorry world.
The air was warm, and her icy heart was in danger of melting. And it scared the hell out of her.

Once she went back to her room to change out of the bathing suit she should have stayed put. It didn't matter that she was trapped by the electrified doors and feeling claustrophobic, it didn't matter that nighttime was smarter time to try to escape-she'd have a better chance of eluding then in the dark. Even so, she still should have stayed where she was once she'd showered and changed out of the borrowed bathing suit.
But she didn't.

Thank God there were caftans in the closet, long, flowing garments that covers her from head to toe. She wanted layers and layers between her flesh and Rosé Park's enigmatic, disturbing gaze. The underwear was a problem of Einstein proportions. There were drawers of new underwear with tags still attached. All Of them designed for skinny models more interested in displaying their assets rather than supporting g throb. She couldn't even find anything resembling a 32-B, and the closest thing she could find made her look like a Sports illustrated swimsuit model.

The panties are worse. Thongs, all of them. And she couldn't decide what made her feel more conspicuous and vulnerable-going commando or wearing the tiny bot of silk
She finally went with the 'any layer is better than nothing' defense, secure that at the caftan covered her from her neck to her toe.
She forgotten that Rosé seemed able to see right through her and everything about her, including an opaque layer of fabric. She just knew she could see the skimpy lingerie she'd been forced to choose.

She was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with ominous speed and precision, but she stopped long enough to give her a thorough once-over before returning to her work.
"Too bad you couldn't find a veil with that nun's habit," she said. "Help yourself to a glass of wine. It's one of Kai's best-from one of his private vineyards. It's got to be tasted to be believed."

"I'm not drinking stolen property."
"Then you shouldn't be wearing stolen property." She said, unfazed. "By tomorrow night, all this will be gone in a fiery explosion. We may as well enjoy what we can."

"I'm not in the mood to enjoy things."
"Then pour yourself a glass of wine in lieu of your precious pills. I know you like good wine-i had to steer you toward your cabin that first night. I was afraid you were going to pass out without any help from me."

"Afraid?"

"Because then I wouldn't have any excuse to kiss you."

She took the wine. She was right, it was almost good enough to die for. Almost. But while she was so busy with her flashing knife she should be scouting the place, looking for a way to escape.
"Don't bother, Sister," she said, not looking up from her work. "I'm a very thorough woman. There's no way you're getting out of this place, unless I let you. Drink your wine and relax."