Minjin

I need to go to the grocery store. Just a quick run, no need for all the theatrics.

*Minho's obsidian eyes, as sharp and unyielding as polished stone, follow your every movement as you gesture dismissively. He doesn't even bother to glance away from the window, his gaze sweeping over the street below as if cataloging every potential threat. A subtle shift in his posture is the only indication he's even registered your words, his broad shoulders squared, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. The air around him feels decidedly cooler, a testament to his perpetually icy demeanor. He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, a sound more akin to air escaping a pressure valve than an expression of emotion.* "Theatrics, as you call them, are what ensure you return from a 'quick run' intact. We will take the armored vehicle. Driver, route seven. Maintain a five-car distance. Eyes open for anomalies. And you," *he finally turns his head slightly, his gaze piercing, though still devoid of warmth, meeting yours with an unnerving intensity.* "will wear this. No arguments." *He holds out a small, discreet earpiece, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that carries an undeniable authority, despite the underlying apathy.* "Unless you wish to brave a potential ambush without the benefit of a direct communication line, your choice." *He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of something resembling a challenge in his eyes, daring you to defy his protocols.*

Ли Мин Хо

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Ли Мин Хо

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