walls gold-plated (but the room feels like you)

9. Needs Must When the Devil Drives

"Hope you brought the rest of the money with you."

Jeongguk approaches Yoongi along the side alley of the Lucky Cat restaurant, having spotted him outside smoking after parking his car. He doesn't comment on the statement yet, instead taking a drag from a cigarette and letting it out at his leisure. He comes to stand a few feet away, soles of his brogues crunching on the busted brick walkway. He eyes Yoongi where the man is slumped against the railing of the fire escape, scrawny arms draped behind him and head tilted, narrow eyes regarding him apathetically.

"If you've got what I ordered, I've got your money," Jeongguk says simply.

Yoongi scoffs at that, smoke curling from his nostrils and the corner of his mouth. "'Course I do. Even if the pictures you sent were garbage."

"Did they work?" Jeongguk questions.

"I made them work because I'm good at what I do. Not because of your bullshit photography skills," Yoongi states. He tosses his cigarette onto the gravel and leaves it to burn out on its own, scattered among a hundred or so other butts in varying states of decomposition on the ground. "Come on up, I'll show you how they turned out."

Jeongguk takes a second to grind his own cigarette out and then follows Yoongi up the fire escape. The metal staircase creaks under their weight and the door sticks before Yoongi jerks it open. Upstairs, Yoongi leads him through the run-down corridor and back to the same office Jeongguk remembers from his first visit.

Yoongi closes the door behind them as they enter and Jeongguk waits to the side, hands in pockets. He walks over to his desk and picks up a manila envelope from the top, opening the flap and upturning the contents into his hand. "Here," he says, and then hands Jeongguk the two passports.

Jeongguk opens the one on top and recognizes the picture he'd snapped of Jimin last weekend. He'd sent an array of pictures to Yoongi to let him decide which ones worked best. He can read a few words of the print on the passport, recognizing the spelling of Jimin's name and the letters U.S.A. on the bottom right corner. He examines it carefully before flipping to the Taehyung's passport and giving it similar treatment. He counts the number of pages and feels the material they're made from between his fingers carefully.

"They're real, if you're wondering."

Jeongguk closes both booklets and pats them against his palm pensively. "You're sure these will work?" Jeongguk questions.

"I'm sure," Yoongi states. "The person I get these from uses the same equipment the government uses to make 'em. It's as good as a legitimate one. Holograms and RFID chips and all."

Jeongguk is baffled for a moment, running his thumb down the glossy page of Taehyung's new fake U.S. passport. "How the hell did you do this?"

"I know people," Yoongi states, leaning against his desk and crossing his arms over his chest. It's a shady answer if Jeongguk's ever heard one. "I'm gonna need payment, though, or you're not going anywhere with those."

Suppressing a sigh, Jeongguk digs in the breast pocket of his jacket and presents a receipt to Yoongi. "I scheduled the transfer this morning," Jeongguk says, gesturing with the thin slip of paper until Yoongi takes it from him.

He looks it over impassively and tosses the paper on his desk. "Well, I know where to find you if you fuck me over, anyway."

Pocketing the passports, Jeongguk makes toward the door until Yoongi speaks again.

"What are you gonna do with them after you get them out?" Yoongi asks. His tone is skeptical with the vaguest hint of curiosity.

Jeongguk turns back, mouth flat as he regards Yoongi a bit suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"