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If his wallet could emote, it would be sobbing right now.
Kim Soleum can hear the cries through the thin fabric of his jacket, but he ignores it in favour of pressing another roll of bandages through the gap in the plastic divider on the counter. The cashier's eyebrows have been rising steadily with each beep of the barcode scanner—it seems she's reached the limit of her facial capabilities, because she just looks uncomfortable.
Someone behind him taps their foot rapidly.
He tries not to let the noise get to him, but his shoulders still begin a slow upward crawl.
Swallowing hard, he tilts his head to get a better look of everything he's passed over to her: those bandages, butterfly stitches, a set of compression sleeves, a few different ointments and large gauze packs...
As he pulls out his wailing wallet, he remembers what he’d forgotten in his distraction.
"Ah, excuse me..." He ducks his head, hunching his shoulders to shoot the cashier a sheepish smile. It's bad enough that he's held up the line with his excessive haul, never mind that it's well-past midnight now. "Could I please also grab a pack of cigarettes...?"
Her eyebrows furrow.
"Which ones?"
Soleum feels his lips tremble as he racks his brain for the brand name. The cashier tilts her head slowly, and he regrets speaking at all.
The foot-tapping continues.
Would Agent Choi even appreciate this?
"Esse Change...?"
It's a name pulled from blurry recollections of the few times his senior had smoked on the job. Despite his earnest shamelessness, Soleum has a feeling that Choi would rather die than see one of his 'precious juniors' handling cigarettes.
The cashier shoots him a doubtful look.
"Can I see your ID?"
Being around twenty-five years old and standing over 6 feet tall, Soleum feels a hot flush crawl up his chest as he fumbles for his identity card.
He really should've just stayed quiet.
The cigarettes enter the reusable bag he'd hastily passed over, punctuated with the sound of someone in the line coughing. A low sigh sends his shoulders shooting up to his earlobes.
"Your total is 45,350 won."
Soleum's fingers freeze where they're pulling the slip pocket open.
"Forty-five..."
Trembling, he pulls five bills out and gingerly places them on the counter. His wallet is impossibly light now, threatening to float out of his grasp and through the hole in the ceiling of this CU. That's how he knows, as he tips the remaining contents out...
"Ah..."
A 100 won coin winks up at him, shiny against the grimy skin of his palm.
The only coin left.
"No..."
Soleum remembers counting the change before going to work this morning. He should have more than this, right—?
"...No?" He sees the cashier's eyes dart from his wallet to the monitor of the till.
Another sigh.
Another cough.
Another tap of a foot, louder, and louder, and—
"Soleum-ah, don't forget about me."
A cold, heavy weight slides across his shoulders and bears down. He goes with it, trying to bend far enough to duck away.
But, no dice. A firm body presses against his back, trapping him in place. The urge to roll his eyes is so strong that it hurts, but he controls himself and looks to the side.
Daydream's Viper spares him a close-lipped smile before turning to the cashier.
"Apologies for the inconvenience. Would you be able to add..." Viper's hand flits about the product display next to them, then picks out a pack of nicotine gum, "...this, please."
"Card, thanks," he adds as he sweeps up Soleum's hard-earned bills and deposits them back into Soleum's frozen hand.
"I—Civilian, I can't let you—!"
The arm latching onto him slides down to wrap around his waist and squeeze. Hard.
"Please, Agent. Let's settle this later."
The transaction is over before Soleum can blink. He returns the money to his wallet with numb fingers, then tucks it away.
It burns a hole in the pocket of his jacket.
Viper, having liberated the bag from Soleum's half-hearted attempt to carry it, maintains his vice grip on Soleum's waist.
They step out into the balmy summer night air together.
Soleum doesn't know how Viper isn't a sweaty mess in that get-up—that half-cape looks awfully thick. It must cost a lot to be stylish during this time of year.
He keeps his thoughts to himself as he shrugs out of Viper's hold. The streetlights above them flicker. Soleum watches their shadows grow and shorten within tense seconds.
"Civilian—"
"No need to thank me. Soleumie knows I'd help him with anything, right?" Viper's lips twitch.
Soleum breathes out a slow, unsatisfying breath; the warm air frustrates him.
"I didn't need your help," he says. "I appreciated it, but you should've let me handle it."
He pulls off his jacket and drapes it over his elbow, tugging at a loose thread for a moment before looking up at Viper.
He's still smiling.
Before he can control himself, Soleum finds himself asking, "Is something funny?"
"Oh, yes," Viper answers rather placidly. His head tilts downward, though he continues to gaze at Soleum. "My dear Agent Grapes fancies himself a tough, independent civil servant... Can you blame my heart for fluttering?"
Viper lifts a hand to his heart before pausing. Soleum observes the way his eyes move around, as if he's searching for something.
Then, his grin stretches, and he reaches out.
Soleum shifts back, but not far enough—gloved fingers brush the helix of his right ear. The leather sticks to his skin.
Soleum bats it away, feeling the heat in his ears begin to travel to his face.
"We," he says through gritted teeth, "will contact you about compensation. Do not come to the headquarters of the Bureau in search of me. Do not spam-call my superiors."
It's tempting to walk away immediately, but he really needs those crepe bandages. His seniors are probably bleeding out as he stands here.
Viper hands over the bag astoundingly easily. Soleum remains tense throughout the exchange, expecting a slippery hand to make its way through his defenses to seize him and steal him away. He'd been threatened with as much, the first time they'd met.
In a show of telepathy, and potentially an attempt to gauge the level of Soleum’s caution, Viper leans in and brushes down the flyaway hair of Soleum’s fringe.
“Call me quickly. I’ll be waiting.” He pats Soleum’s cheek once, twice, the texture irritating his face.
With one hand raised in a facsimile of a wave, Vipers slithers away into the dark streets beyond.
Soleum stares after him, an uncomfortable warmth bubbling in his stomach.
He chalks it up to indigestion and waddles home.