#THANKS FOR THIS MY DEAR LENLEN and also MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

[stillresolved]

"It's just a little something," Sarang's smile has a tightness around the edges that doesn't suit Jing at all. It makes her look hesitant, doubtful. Too old. Older than what Jing's mental age is supposed to be perceived as. The way she stands, too. Sarang is feminine, but her feminity isn't Jing's. Jing's isn't hers, either.

She gestures, vaguely points at the small gift bag she'd left on the table, moments before standing and declaring her departure. There, next to her empty cup, and Nell's hands, where Sarang had spent the better part of their afternoon softening into barely verbal answers, and long stares.

"It's not meant to insinuate anything," Sarang explains, with the calm of a being centuries' old, almost too warm for a deadly weapon. "I just thought you might enjoy wearing it."

A small expensive perfume bottle. A little something, because Sarang doesn't know how to make gifts she means. "Let me know if you don't like it, hm? I wouldn't want you walking around with a scent you don't enjoy, love." She smiles a little wider. "Don't ever disrespect yourself like that." ((>:3333333333333333333333333333))

@ptternminds / unprompted.

HER MOTHER WORKED THREE JOBS TO KEEP THEM AFLOAT. And when Nell was young, Daisy Jones took her daughter to all three of them. Babysitters were expensive and even more so, children shouldn't be trusted alone in a house. Nell used to be able to remember what day of the week it was based on her mother's work schedule: Mondays and Wednesdays were at the restaurant and Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays at the bar.

Saturdays and Sundays were her favorite though- her mother worked at a cosmetics store on the weekends. When Nell wasn't doing her homework, she was perusing the long aisles of beauty products that her mother advertised even if she couldn't afford them herself. Nell has always wondered what it was like, wearing such items. To consider such a necessity rather than a luxury.

Perfume is no exception.

Does Jing see perfume as the former or the latter? Nell can't say for sure- for a woman who is always impeccably dressed, a woman who displays flippancy more like a fan than an arm, Jing is...there's always an edge to her. Something not as light, not as pliant- sturdier, sharper. She's not like Myungdae, who keeps people at an arm's length. No, Jing keeps a much wider space, even when she strikes.

Perhaps an arrow?

"What does it smell like?" Nell blurts out, (the use of love made her brain short circuit for a moment there- just another question to ask: did Jing ever study in the UK?) even though she can clearly read the label- Coriander Sandalwood. Or at least that's what she thinks the label says; her Korean isn't quite a 1-to-1 with her English. Yet, or at least according to Alfred. "Sorry stupid question- I've used coriander before, not quite sure what it's supposed to do when I add it, but the recipes make it sound like my dishes will taste bland without it and I've been in enough temples to know what sandalwood smells like. Not terrible, but also it kinda reminds me of funerals- oh god, I'm making it sound like I've not happy you got me this, aren't I?"

A deep breath. Jing is still watching her, just as she always does. It's odd, isn't it? Nell babbles and even if she still can't gauge Jing's tolerance for such completely, she can't say it's all panic that spurs her on. "Thank you- I, uh, I've actually never worn perfume before? My mom did, but it was just for work- she wouldn't let me touch them. Probably wanted to make sure I didn't break anything."

She opens the perfume- she's seen lots of women put perfume on before right? "It's on the wrist, right?" One sprit for each wrist. She takes a whiff- it smells like the woods.

In other words, the exact opposite place someone like Nell thrives in. Somewhere someone like Jing would choose to be instead. Nell closes the bottle and tucks it away.

"Want coffee?" she says finally. If not still flustered. "And a croissant- I'll uh, it's on the house."