WHO: Sue Kim & Shin Kim WHAT: Sue comes home after the Paddytown riot WHERE: Kim's Gym, Atlantic Ave. WHEN: BACKDATED to around 2 am, Thursday morning (post-riot) RATING: PG for irate fathers? IDK
SUE: It was just before 2 am when Sue finally managed to get home from the concert-turned-riot. She'd been eager to get out and go celebrate St. Patrick's Day with her friends, and spend a little bit of her hard-earned money. The bands were great, even Sora was having fun... and then the Eleventh Hour played one of their more politically charged songs and all hell had broken loose. The protection of her shy friend foremost in her mind, Sue'd practically shoved Sora towards the emergency exit while she looked around for Lil and her guy friends. Half a minute of searching and one jolt to her shoulder later, she'd decided that Lil and the boys could fend for themselves and ran out the back. No Sora, but there were those shady-looking dweebs she'd noticed earlier... and some other dudes... what they were doing, she couldn't say at that moment (her thoughts were more geared towards Sora's location, which wasn't there). But now, long after she'd found her friends, she'd had plenty of time to reflect upon what she'd seen in that dark, foggy alley.
So it was, as she crept back home with her riot-bruised shoulder well after her bedtime, Sue Kim's thoughts were not occupied with the reaction of her father, but rather mulling over this new mysterious happenstance she'd chanced upon. She scurried up the stairs next to the gym, and started to insert various keys into locks.
SHIN: Before Sue's fumbling with locks could bear much fruit the door swung open of its own volition. Framed in the doorway was the silhouette of her father, slightly unfamiliar due to the lack of his usual slouch. Instead he was drawn up to full height, his form and features tight with a restrained anxiety. Sue caught a bright flash of something in his widened eyes, a panic of who might be on the other side of this door and what news they might be bearing, but as his gaze settled on his daughter they melted into instantaneous relief.
That said, any hopes that Sue may have entertained about riding safely through on a wave of paternal relief were quickly dashed. As fluidly as Shin's expression had moved from fear to relief, it then segued into thin-lipped anger. He blurted a question in Korean, as he was prone to doing when excited, before repeating it in English. "Where have you been?"
SUE: Like her father, a quick series of expressions moved across Sue's face: surprise as the door suddenly opened, guilt as she realized she'd forgotten to call her father once she knew she'd be out later than intended, and finally, weariness. She was home, she didn't have to worry about rioters or who might take offense at her ethnicity on the street. The latter combined, and not a heartbeat after Mr. Kim had repeated his question in English, the nineteen year-old was hugging her father, face buried in his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Daddy, I should've called."
She pulled away after a brief moment, fully aware that her dad was not one for prolonged embraces. "I was at that party in Williamsburg, remember? But it went kind of sour, and I lost track of the time..." she smiled, abashed, and shrugged... though the bruise on her shoulder ensured that she instantly regretted it. "I was safe, though, don't worry."
SHIN: Shin's quiet, swelling anger momentarily abated as his daughter threw her arms around him. He looked briefly stunned, his arms poised semi-limp and helpless at his sides before he maneuvered them to give her a brief, firm hug. The short embrace managed to express the full depth and breadth of his relief, but it didn't last long - within a moment he was pulling her back and angling her body to inspect the bruise on her shoulder.
"This 'party in Williamsburg' is all over my iHolo." He grumbled dryly as he inspected the bruise in a terse, professional manner. "People are getting hurt." He let the words I was worried hang heavily in the space between those spoken, discarding her shoulder to shuffle off towards the kitchen. The icebox was swung open and an icepack yanked out, one of many kept on hand for boxing injuries.
SUE: "I know, I know," Sue said, following him into the kitchen and flopping wearily into a rickety chair. "But I did what you say, looked out for exits when I got there, and I got me and Sora out of there just fine." There was a long pause as she let the ice be applied to her shoulder, and she chewed on her lip, trying to decide what to say next. "I couldn't find Lil... but she was fine, we met up right after," she settled on accounting for her other friends, leaving aside the mystery in the alleyway until she had more concrete facts. "Are they saying anything on the holos? I haven't checked yet."
SHIN: Shin's only response to Sue's retelling were the occasional grunt, though they at least seemed to be on the positive end of his usual scale. He placed her hand over the positioned ice pack to keep it in place and capped off with a firm, "None of you girls should have been there."
With the bruise dealt with, he crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen counter facing Sue's chair, his expression firm and impassive. "They say it's all over the housing act. Drunk rabble with an excuse to throw bottles." His judgmental grumbles tapered off into incoherency, but the general sentiment seemed to be disapproval of this method of voicing public opinion or enacting social change.
SUE: "Everyone there knew The Eleventh Hour was going to be playing, though! It's not like their songs were a surprise. I mean, would you pay twenty bucks just to pick a fight?" The question was rhetorical, for they both knew full well that twenty bucks was but a drop in the bucket for those sorts of people that wanted to make their opinions heard, at any cost - on either side of the matter, too. But given what she'd seen (or thought she'd seen), Sue had to have her doubts. "It's just weird, that's all. Don't you think so? Even a little?"
SHIN: "Pfeh." Shin dismissed with a wave of his hand, "People pay more than that to pick fights downstairs alone. Fools never need an excuse." The fridge door swung open and a plate of questionable leftovers was extracted without any question of if Sue were hungry or not. Before objection could be made the plate was already rotating in the microwave. "Young people are attracted to violence. A cause just makes it all the more convenient. These 'Eleventh Hours' should know better than to incite people."
SUE: Sue glanced at the leftovers with resignation. Any and all trepidation she had towards leftovers disappeared years ago, cropping up only with the most suspect of smells. "I guess so, there were some pretty drunk people," she acceded, though the drawn out syllables belied her doubts.
"It's not like some other third party would want a riot, right?"
SHIN: Shin's pause was so brief to be almost imperceptible, but something about Sue's comment definitely caught his attention. He placed the warmed plate in front of her and clattered utensils atop it, and though his body language remained irreverent, his eyes watched her more attentively now. "Why would you think this?"
SUE: "Dunno," Sue said quickly, picking up the fork and hurriedly pushing food into her mouth. She made wide, innocent eyes at her father, chewing away at the late night meal and periodically shoveling more of it into her mouth. It wasn't until the fourth mouthful of the indistinct rice dish that she spoke again. "When did we cook this, anyway?"
SHIN: "Ayshhhhh." Shin exhaled irritably, a familiar emission and one of the few holdovers of his dwindling Korean accent. Sue's question was ignored, and her innocent eyes were met with Shin's shrewdly narrowed own. "I don't want you meddling in this business, Sue. This is no mystery, just a bunch of drunk kids thinking they're being political. It's trouble and I want it dropped, ne?"
SUE: "There's no mystery!" Sue protested, deliberately leaving off that tiny little three letter word. Yet. No mystery yet. Not 'officially'. "I have nooo intention of getting mixed up in stupid drunk trouble, scout's honor," she said, quite solemnly.
That would be good enough for her father - for now. She could turn back to other topics. Such as, "Seriously, was this last Wednesday's dinner? Does tofu even go bad?"