Hajin took the dropped spoon and sighed at the reddish stain on the white sheet. He put the spoon away and took a new one, placing it on Seul-ah's stiffened hand. "Ah, you shouldn't dirty the sheet, Princess."
"Don't call me that!" Seul-ah snapped, grabbing the spoon tightly as she contemplated using it to smack the fighter's head instead.
"What should I call you, then? Miss 808?" Hajin tilted his head.
Seul-ah frowned, suddenly feeling childish. She had no idea why, but that 'princess' tickled something inside her brain that was filled with regrets she couldn't remember or identify. That being said, how could she think so shallowly to hit the man with a spoon--he was a fighter, for fuck's sake. She should look for a cleverer way than hitting his head with a measly spoon.
Like throwing a bowl full of hot, spicy soup.
