TheWendil
TokyoPewPew
prinsipessa
Azure Bubbles
BunniesOfDoom
Yanadere
erikh
Guardian Angel Haruki
The bus driver, at Da Bin's entrance and following question, raises an eyebrow. Ji, likewise, leans forward, to better catch a glimpse of the new arrival.
"This is Route 80, not route 7," the driver responds, neither harshly nor gently, but with a sense of expectation, hands ever ready on the wheel, engine ever thrumming. "But if I were to wager a guess, I don't think she's coming. And," he adds, tilting his head to look out behind her into the electric light of the convenience store and, seeing no one, looks back. "βit's dangerous for a girl like yourself to be out here all alone. You say you're from Junmyeon Court? I can make a stop there, if you'd like."
Here, his eyes soften just slightly, brought on by a fading memory, and he nods, as if to someone beside Da Bin, or behind her. The parking lot is empty, filled with dim electric lights.
"It's not in my nature to leave people alone. But the choice is yours."
After getting his look at Da Bin, Ji slowly returns to his own conversation, no longer glancing at the girl like a cat who's seen a bird and is intent on finding out what it tastes like. Curiosity comes quickly and easily to Ji, and leaves in the same fashion.
"You sure you don't need anything else?" He questions Mira, worried upon seeing the tears reappear on her face. "Take it easy, okay? We're all... well, this bus doesn't come for everyone. Maybe you can take something from it. Just a thought." Ji gives her a small smile, hoping it serves as a small encouragement for the obviously-in-distress passenger. It gives him memories of his own checkered past, of the days when he was struggling for a place to call home, and a passion to live for. Much has changed, he thinks, and yet nothing has changed. Ji gives a wry smile to that thought and moves on, keeping a compassionate eye on Mira (and his handkerchief) as the night wears on around them.
Perhaps a passenger or two boards the bus, so quietly that they almost slip the mind. At the very least, the bus driver delivers a bag of unknown contents to an employee that approaches the bus, who thanks him, hands him a pack of cigarettes, and disappears back into the sterile silence of the shop. The exchange is routine, at least to Ji and any other regular, and yet mysterious, because no one has ever seen what the bus driver is exchanging for his cigarettes.
But perhaps it is nothing, and it is the night that fools us into thinking otherwise.
