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Inside an elegant, spacious building, a wispy paper flutters to the ground, unnoticed by all who pass it. Without a pocket to settle in, it has no home, no place to turn back to. It remains a loner.

 A stray traveler.

Feet whisk on by, lifting it from its spot, stirring its movement with little tornados of air. As a victim of an invisible swelling tide, it rises and falls, coasting along the red-carpeted hallways of the hotel. Drifting aimlessly, it wanders towards the front desk. The warm walnut furniture halts its creeping movement. The thin paper flattens against the side of the reception desk's surface, unclaimed and isolated.

"...can't believe we had to go through that." A voice from the end of the hall catches the attention of the woman at the front desk. "...they say the attack has stopped, but no one knows where the information has gone. At this point-"

The lady comes into sight of the desk. She lifts her chin up from her phone and briefly digs through her designer bag. Within seconds, she extricates a credit card and a tube of lipstick. The credit card she hands to the worker behind the front desk, the lipstick, she quickly applies. The movement is so practiced and graceful that the worker behind the front desk wonders how often this woman multitasks while speaking on the phone. 

"Naomi Sakurai. Checking out." She smiles warmly at the receptionist, then continues with her phone call. The worker processes the credit card, undeniably intrigued. Most of the guests staying at that hotel are upper class business people or up-and-coming celebrities. This Naomi Sakurai feels vaguely familiar to her, but she can't put her finger on it.

She can't put her finger on who or what spurred this sudden feeling inside her. Before she can begin to grasp it, the woman retrieves her credit card and strides out the door. The hotel worker stares at the back of a glossy, black bob cut before it disappears behind a column of the hotel entrance. 

Almost like a figment of her imagination.

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"Hello, you have reached Tower Drive Law Offices. If you are here to file an incident, press one."

Jimin grips his cell phone demurely, letting it dangle on speaker phone about two inches from his chest. Sunlight filters over his hair and coats the remnant messy bed covers. 

"I'm not here to file an incident." Jimin snarls as the automated voice continues. "But I'm going to make a pretty nasty incident if you don't put me through to a real fucking person!"

The voice briefly silences, seeming to consider his words. In the accompanying hospital room, Jimin hears a vague would he just shut up already?

"If you would like to get in contact with one of our lawyers, press-"

"Please press seven." Jimin mocks. "But even when I press seven, you damn fuckers put me on hold for five minutes and lie to me that you're working hard to put me through to a real person! I know damn straight you aren't. You lawyers are sitting back and having your lunch break of egg brûlée served on toasted honey wheat, topped with caviar shavings. I mean, come on."

A knock sounds at the hospital door, quick and wispy. Jimin sits up straight on the bed, studying the door frame. He recognizes those knocks instantly.  

"Am I allowed in here?" The owner of the voice proceeds to enter the room with a gentle closing of the door. "Also, where's...?"

"He's trying to go incognito down at the cafeteria. I asked him to get me an apple fritter and hot cocoa with triple extra whipped cream and fudge sauce." Jimin sighs, checking the time on his phone. "But Jungkook's been gone like...ten minutes already. Either he got lost and is exploring the hospital morgue for funsies, or he's taking a huge dump in the hospital's public restroom."

Naomi grins, shaking her head. "What nonsense. He's probably on his way up now. I passed the lobby on the way here, and this place is packed." Naomi notices the phone clinging to the side of Jimin's head. "Who are you trying to call?"

Jimin scowls at the phone, mashing the seven button. He cracks his neck when the same automated song plays through the speaker along with we will connect you through to Mr. Park momentarily. 

"Oh, you know. A friend." Jimin frustratedly wipes his face with the back of his hand. "That friend."

Naomi raises her eyebrows and takes a seat on the silken chair nuzzled next to the hospital bed. "You must be pretty desperate to call him."

"Well, what can I say. Someone hacked into my brainchild and wants to bring us down. You think I'm going to sit pretty in a hospital bed and spend all day on top of Jungkook's-"

"You can skip that part." Naomi shuts her eyes.

"...get frisky with Jungkook while a monster is out there playing manipulative games with my company?" Jimin tsks. "Talk about no, girlfriend. No way in heyday. I'm using the ammo that I've had stashed for all these years. The hidden weapon, on a very bland and orderly business card."

Suddenly, a voice emerges from the phone, deep and dubious.

"...ammo? Hidden weapon? Excuse me, who am I speaking with?"

Jimin blinks down at the phone, opens his mouth at Naomi, and grabs the metal device with both hands. At that same moment, the door to the hospital room creaks open. What appears to be a bedraggled security guard with thick shades and a baseball cap on enters the room with a takeout bag that smells like sugary apple pie. In his other hand, a cardboard cup steams into the air.

"JINYOUNG!" Jimin shrieks into the phone. "Ahem. Sorry for the loud greeting, but if I'm being quite honest, you need to tell whoever designed that automated dial-up menu to switch careers. Whoever they are, they shouldn't be in sound design. The music was dissonant, clashing. It sounded like two cows going at it underneath an aluminum can recycling facility."

Across the hospital room, Jungkook bursts out in laughter. His flimsy baseball cap disguise falls onto the floor with a limp thud. Naomi reaches down and retrieves it for him, covering up a smile. 

A few unclear utterings trail from the phone speaker. "I'm...this is...wait. Is this really Park Jimin?"

"I've been waiting to speak to you for over fifteen minutes now." Jimin anxiously bites his lip. "We need to talk."

Jinyoung sounds apologetic. "Oh, I didn't realize...I just came back from my lunch break, actually."

Jimin almost giggles with how close his prediction was. He almost asks, did you eat egg brullee on honey wheat toast? but that would reveal his teetering state of mind. "I would love to talk about how you're doing over there at the law office, I really would. But this is an emergency."

"A big emergency!" Jungkook shouts from the other side of the room. He then proceeds to lift the cocoa to his lips, blows on it, and attempts a sip. Soon the cup is torn away from his mouth, still steaming. Drips of boiling cocoa drip down the side of the cup and onto the floor. "Fuck, too hot."

"I know I am." Jimin whispers to Jungkook before listening for Jinyoung's response.

Jinyoung sucks in a thread of air. "This doesn't have to do with...?"

"Yep. It has to do with that." Jimin's shoulders droop. "So you've seen the news, huh."

"I'm sorry Jimin. It's all over the place. How Pluto Rooms' data was hacked into, being threatened by some unknown infiltrator. It's international news at this point. In fact, the lead prosecutor over here made this data-mining case an example at the law office." In the background, Jimin can hear paper shredders and printers carrying out their lawful functions. Reshaping paper to attain justice. "Have you got any leads on this guy? Any information at all?" Jinyoung asks.

"Not really. Someone who claimed to be our hacker called me yesterday, but then again, I received four or five more calls with people claiming the same thing." Jimin shakes his head. "There are so many people out there who love to freak the shit out of people, you know?"

Jinyoung sighs over the line. "Unfortunately, I know that all too well."

"So...are you willing to help us out?" Jimin mentally crosses his fingers. "I, I know you're busy and all, and I know you must have like thirteen hundred clients you're currently working with, as one of the top prosecutors in Busan...but we'll reimburse you for your services at triple your normal price."

Jungkook, holding the hot cocoa in his hands with a vague whipped cream mustache, pipes up loudly. "We'll pay quadruple. Pentuple. Sextuple? Wait. Pentameter? Dodecahedron? The fuck am I trying to say. Oh, yeah. What's thirteen times something called?"

"Tredecuple." Naomi inputs without hesitation.

Jungkook makes a funny face before muttering something about how Stanford generates robots instead of graduate humans. Naomi pretends she doesn't hear him.

Jimin watches the two before repeating the word into the phone. "Okay, according to my sources we'll pay you tredecuple your normal amount, Jinyoung. We really need your input and advice on how to handle this legally. Plus, you've worked with celebs before. Braving the limelight isn't anything new for you."

"I don't know, Jimin." Hesitation creeps into the mixture of staplers clashing with stacks of legal paper in the background. "This isn't just a single case of cryptorobbery. This is on an entirely different scale. The defendant breached millions of users' data and is threatening to do harm with it. This is an international case, which makes my level of expertise look like a soju next to international lawyers' hard whiskeys."

The alcoholic comparison reminds Jimin of Radon. The simplicity of being bartender and having to deal with mildly violent drunkards feels like level one compared to the situation he finds himself in now.

Naomi senses the doubt coming from Jinyoung's side of the line. She leans forward in her chair, tugging on the sheet to get Jimin's attention. Challenge him, she mouths, fire him up.

Jungkook tries for another sip of hot cocoa. He manages to get three drops in his mouth before a good quarter of the cup spills onto his nondescript security sweatshirt. He opens his mouth to curse but stops when he catches the evil look in Jimin's eye. It never ceases to turn him on when Jimin transcends into sharp, bratty CEO mode.

"I understand that you might feel overwhelmed by the idea." Jimin starts off smooth, sympathetic. "Because I know just how overwhelmed you feel. When I was first presented with the idea of dating you way back in the day, I felt torn between two choices, as you're feeling now. But after some thinking, I realized that the better choice was right there in front of me the whole time. I just needed the truth to bite me in the ass first before I realized it."

Naomi facepalms, shutting her eyes to block out vicarious embarrassment. Jungkook sits up straighter and swallows. He thought Jimin was going to anger Jinyoung, not enrage him.

"Where is this going?" Jinyoung asks suspiciously. 

"Well. I wanted someone capable." Jimin blurts, rocking gently back and forth on the hospital bed as he speaks. "I couldn't picture myself with a law intern who half-assed his way to the top, you know? I wanted someone who gave it his all. Someone who didn't beat around the bush to get what he wanted. Someone direct, someone intelligent...someone who I could depend on in a time of need."

Naomi shakes her head aggressively, mouthing abort, abort, abort while moving her hand across her throat. Bad plan motions.

Jungkook, on the other hand, smirks at Jimin over the lid of the spilled cocoa. If there's one thing Jimin's great at, it's finding others' weaknesses. He's a pro at seeing straight through the exterior facade of people...seeing past the office supplies and the pristine plastic wrap to get at the legal goods underneath. To get at the stuff that hurts bad. 

"I didn't realize you called me to bring up the past and mock my career. That's pretty low of you, Jimin."

"You know what else is low?" Jimin bites his lip. "The bar you're setting for yourself, Jinyoung. You may think this is career suicide, but believe me, everything me and Jungkook touch turns to gold."

Jungkook sets the cocoa down hard on the hospital table. "I'm not touching Jinyoung. This is strictly a monogamous sexual relationship. You hear that, briefcase boy?"

"Is that Jungkook?"

Naomi wipes away at fake embarrassed tears. If anyone feels uncomfortable, it's the only female in the room who's failed to keep her acquaintances on the right conversational track.

"Yes, yes. It's Jungkook. Anyway!" Jimin loses his train of thought, distracted by the cocoa stain on Jungkook's sweatshirt. "Ugh. I can't think of mean things anymore. Please, Jinyoung, can you at least try to help us out? I'm not even looking for a legal contract over here, just some tips? Some advice? Anything?"

Jinyoung chuckles low. "You expect me to help you after you basically called me boring, incompetent, and half-assed?"

Jimin breathes out his nose. "Um. Yes."

The room falls silent. Everyone holds their breath in anticipation. In the closest hospital room, Jungkook hears someone complain to a nurse about the temperature of their soup. He is reminded of his mother, of his safe, warm, and non-hacked home in Busan, and feels his chest constrict. How he'd kill to go back there, if only for a few minutes.

"...you're not the best at verbal business exchanges, for a CEO." Jinyoung mumbles, suppressing a laugh. "But I have to say, I'm moved by your bully act. I know you don't have a mean bone in your body, Jimin. We're not strangers, even if it has been a while. Cut the crap. We know I'm your guy."

Jimin's forehead wrinkles in surprise. Jinyoung's lawyer expereince must have opened his eyes to the reality of seeing past niceties and getting to the deeper meanings during communication. It makes him feel kind of proud, in a distant, close friend way. 

"So we have a deal?" Jimin breathes.

"We have a deal." Jinyoung says. "Although I'm pretty offended by what you said about me."

"I didn't mean it! I was kidding. I was only doing what my...secretary...suggested." Jimin comments.

"You can afford a traveling public services rep now? How times have changed." Jinyoung chuckles. "Who is it? Or am I not allowed to know?"

"You're not, until we get at least fifteen minutes of your time as our official lawyer." Jimin counters. "As you know, we're kind of screwed when it comes to time. We have to act as fast as possible. Remember, we'll pay you...tredoopole? Trekdiple? What was the word?"

"Trecduple." Jinyoung inputs without hesitation.

Jungkook sips the hot cocoa. "What's wrong with you people? Knowing weird number words." Fortunately, every drop of hot cocoa reaches his mouth, and he soon forgets that he retrieved the drink for Jimin in the first place.

"Yes. We'll send you a briefcase full of millions of dollars, every bill personally kissed by my lips." Jimin reiterates. "Sorry for being so blasé, but my anger at this hacker kind of bleeds into my action plan, if you haven't noticed."

"We've all noticed." Naomi shares.

"Hey, this is basically him all the time." Jungkook reveals. "Before he gets sugar in him, that is."

"All right, what do you want me to do?"

Jimin closes his eyes for a moment, pictures exactly what he wants from Jinyoung. He doesn't know if it's possible or technically legal, but with Jinyoung on their side, they'll be able to pull strings to make it work.

"I want you..." Jimin stares out the hospital window, watching clouds gather in bunches, obscuring the sun with their timed movements. Anything in the world could be hidden in plain sight, and Jimin knew that their hacker was included. "I want you to find us ten undercover men and an underground hacker, and send them to Los Angeles on the soonest flight. Also, I want you to file paperwork saying that we, Pluto Rooms, got in contact with the government in Busan and are following their advice to handle this situation properly."

Jungkook gapes.

"Also," Jimin taps his forehead. "Keep this under wraps. Nothing leaves your mouth, Jinyoung. Not another living soul. One final thing-"

"You're going undercover too, aren't you." Jinyoung deadpans. "You want me to prepare false identities under the law, to temporarily protect you."

Jimin purses his lips, pleasantly surprised. "Shut up! How knowledgeable our lawyer is..."

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a note from an author from a mother from an egg white delight

you know i guess i'm just going to wing it from here on out because i've reached a stage of existence that warrants no bounds also tomorrow i'm getting my wisdom teeth out so wish me luck, like one thousand gallons of luck juice boiling inside a heavy-duty vat made of tooth enamel. i'll drink all of it if it means that i'll heal properly and righteously and dutifully. if after tomorrow my writing declines into slop porridge staining letter frames then that means my physical body and intermittent mind must be deeply plagued by direct onset wisdom-loss introduced by the scalpel slicing bones from my jaw space. who collects the teeth? i want to be the creepy person at the oral surgery locations that hides under the porch just to sneak up on bystanders and ask for their yanked teeth. teeth are white gemstones birthed from calcium and leukocytes playing on their osteocytic playgrounds. i must sleep now, bed to face, closed eyes to dreamland entrance. adieu and adieu, fair fellows of morrow.

help. :)

(oh and i love you because i love everyone so much)

izzy.