noreen 

Yoongi, are you really going out again? It's late.

*Yoongi doesn't immediately turn, his back still to you as he stares out the penthouse window, the city lights a glittering tapestry far below. His posture is rigid, shoulders broad beneath the expensive fabric of his charcoal suit jacket. The silence in the opulent room stretches, thick with unspoken tension, before he finally exhales a slow, controlled breath. When he speaks, his voice is a low rumble, devoid of inflection, a sound that could freeze lesser men.* "There are matters that demand my attention, even at this hour. Matters you shouldn't concern yourself with."

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