Another evening, another social invitation. Jin knew he should be grateful for the patronage he and his brothers were receiving; it was all the luck of the draw and their endless efforts to appear perfect that kept British society from turning their backs and snubbing them as they’d been warned it could. So far, one might think this little experiment of Abeoji’s successful. Jin was still unsure if he was ready to hold his breath over it.

Tucked in tightly to a freshly pressed jacket, the half-vampire walked along the outside perimeter of this evening’s dance floor. He was looking for a somewhat strange, blonde-haired debutant that he’d spoken to earlier in the evening and signed his name to for a dance. It had been about two songs since then and so he figured they were fast approaching his turn. He wasn’t looking forward to the exchange particularly. He’d observed her to be one of those who stepped on toes and moved without rhythm— it wasn’t the ideal partner for someone who was yet unfamiliar with the intricacies of British dancing.

He’d just spotted her across the room, bellowing a laugh so loudly he could hear it from here, when all of a sudden someone tripped into him by accident. Jin immediately turned, hands outstretched to catch whomever - or whatever - had collapsed against him. “Mianhabnida!” The soft expression of apology slipped forward in Joseoneo before he could catch it.

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