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Hae-min teetered on the edge of fleeing. Not a bit of her wanted to fight and work on this 'confidence' thing that Tae-yul insisted she lacked. Somehow, balancing on two-inch heeled sandals in an outfit that would not pass for rags at home didn't seem like much of a battle any demure girl such as herself would want to win. (All of her hanboks had mysteriously disappeared that morning. She suspected brotherly interference.) And she would have gone straight home. She wanted to, and more than once had turned and taken a few steps in what might be the general direction of the house.

Except she had no clue where it was, except for somewhere along the left side of a street if you were walking west. And her cell phone was in the bag that the man who had accompanied her had taken with him. The piece of paper with the phone number on it was in the small cloth purse that dangled from one trim wrist, but... Anxiously, she slipped over to a nearby bench and sat down. At least she didn't stand out too badly; the other women here wore similar clothes, even if their hair was not as long. Or as silky, or as loose. Seated, her hair pooled around her; when she stood, it hung ridiculously long.

Maybe she could cut it? She tugged a lock of her hair out and looked at it hopelessly. No, that would be going too far. Abeoji might promote her wearing American clothes and learning American values, but he would never let her cut her hair. With a sigh, she dropped the lock and leaned against the back of the bench. Hae-min was stuck until the driver decided he liked his job better than pleasing a brother of his boss that didn't even live in this American city. And it was such a large city, she couldn't even trust that someone she knew would pass by soon... How depressing.

And scary. She'd never really been alone before. Not even at the flea market. But Hae-min was a big girl, so her face stayed in a polite frown, and she sat on her hands so no one could see her shake. Hopefully, she looked like a normal American woman in her early twenties... hopefully.

The high temperatures for that day meant good things for her; her only issues were with her opaque white stockings, really. And she didn't mind those, even, because at least she didn't reveal too much skin. If she lacked those stockings, the short, black pleated skirt would expose far more than she liked it to. And the red top, though long-sleeved, was tight... Oh, she was going to kill Tae-yul.

But halfway through her (imaginative) planning, someone called out her name. She looked up and automatically waved back at the approaching man, then recognized him. "A-ah," Hae-min gasped, both hands flying to her mouth. "Mister Brad!" Someone she recognized, more importantly.

She started to get up, but overbalanced herself and fell gracelessly back to the bench. (She was not used to heels. Tae-yul was a dead duck. His entrails would fertilize her garden.) Her face flushed bright red as she hurried to straighten herself out enough that the blush would die down. After all, it wasn't like her fan was right in her bag. It happened to be in the somewhat larger bag with her cell phone. The young lady covered her face with her hands and took deep breaths to catch her composure.

"How are you?" When her face stopped feeling so warm, she lowered her hands and folded them in her lap. "I-it very warm today..." Her voice petered off. It was all well and good to help, or at least stand witness, when she looked like a proper girl. But when she looked like a hussy, well, that was just humiliating, which explained why she directed a determined stare to her toes. Occasionally she looked up to make sure Brad was still there, but... Hae-min mostly kept her gaze firmly on the sidewalk.

"All right, Brad," she said sheepishly. He had a nice smile, but it wasn't at all like the one she'd seen last time they met. But then, this one seemed more... honest. She liked it a lot better.

Hae-min shook her head heartily. "You not look scruffy at all!" She smiled warmly and smoothed her skirt. It didn't need smoothing, but she was nervous, damnit. And lost. Her hands were still shaking. "You look very nice," she continued, but her voice faded out again uncertainly. What if she left? She didn't know what she would do here for two hours. Or however long she was to be here.

"It get hotter?" It never got anywhere near this hot in Seoul. Not that she remembered, anyway, but that didn't mean much since she mostly played with the garden outside and that was hot anyway. Inside the family home, she never really needed thicker or thinner hanboks. She frowned and scuffed one foot.

"I not know what bring me here. Stupid brother tell driver and lady servant-" Oh god, she hoped the servant who had moved her hanboks was female "-to hide hanbok and make 'explore'." She sighed. "I am lost." The quiver in her voice had been suppressed admirably until that phrase, where it became overtly obvious. "I like very much walk with you," she continued hopefully, in a much stronger voice. If she could get up.

"Thank you," she said. She hadn't meant it to be so obvious that she didn't know what to do with herself. And the shakes that came with an adrenaline high- even one so abortive as Hae-min's- didn't make it any easier for her to get up. What was worse was, her mind had gone completely blank. Even though she wanted to say something else to make it clear how much she appreciated it, Hae-min couldn't think of another word to say.

It was a testament to Hae-min's will that she managed to pull herself together in only a few minutes. Once she felt confident that she wouldn't fall down after standing, she got up and smiled tremulously at Brad. "I- I not even know where to look for hanbok..." She blinked as it dawned on her that he might not know what a hanbok was. He clearly wasn't Korean. "Hanbok is like... what I wear at club."

Then she made the mistake of looking down at their hands. Automatically, she covered her mouth with one hand and looked away; after taking several deep, calming breaths she looked back to Brad. She wouldn't react to seeing those scars, especially since he was so kind. Her hand still tightened convulsively around his. Any kind of physical disfigurement made her skin crawl.

"I... just like to walk, please? I not even know what street home is." Hae-min looked down again, this time more from shame than from fear. "I only move here one week," she mumbled.

Fortunately for him, Hae-min had been taught the finer arts of conversation as a child. She seized on the opportunity to take the metaphorical step back onto ground that she was comfortable on. Conversation was a give-and-take, and the more giving you did the better you were said to be at the art. "You say you have errands," she reminded him softly. "If you not mind..." That sentiment got too complicated for her to put together, so she gave him an apologetic look. "I not too good at English."

She nodded, listening. The cadence of words in a language well-known to the speaker did help her mellow a bit. "Yes. Hanbok make of silk or linen. And not too many layers to wear." It took concentration to walk with her normal balance. Walking in heels was driving her crazy; normally she could press on the toe of her shoe to create an appearance of floating, but with heels, her pressure was already there. She didn't dare try to apply the same concept as walking in her sandals to this, since overbalancing wouldn't hurt just herself.

"You also dress warm for weather," she observed in a very quiet tone of voice, offering him an opportunity to talk as she'd been taught to do. "It look well on you."

"Thank you," Hae-min said. "That so kind." She knew he was probably just saying it, since she sucked at grammar. Tae-yul had said as much when he visited, and since he spoke such good English she couldn't doubt him.

She timidly touched one of his rolled-up sleeves. Her younger brother, that arrogant b*****d, had lectured her about wearing clothes that could be changed from casual to formal. This seemed to be one of those shirts he'd described. When she had been at the flea market, the other American man had had his sleeves rolled up too. Maybe she should try rolling her own sleeves up- No. No, she really shouldn't. Hae-min shook her head at her own stupidity and kept walking.

She smiled encouragingly. "It good to look nice. It like saying you proud of self to look nice. Do you agree?" At his compliment, she looked down at her skirt and blushed a little. "Thank you, Brad," she mumbled. Her clothes embarrassed her more than they made her feel confident. If she'd been left on that bench when she was wearing a hanbok, she would be halfway home by now! She was sure of it!

She looked at the girl and immediately looked back at Brad. "People really dress..." An absurd feeling of disgust and pity for that girl colored her voice before it faded out. Someone like that couldn't possibly have pride in their appearance or themselves. It wouldn't make any sense.

One thing was for sure, she would never dress like that. Never ever.

Well, when she had a choice. In her opinion, these clothes were only marginally better, and a flower only was as good as its petals. After all, no one liked a lily in the autumn, when it was bare of the beauty that it bore in spring and summer. Quite on accident, she got tangled up in her own thoughts and didn't even notice Brad pulling her aside until he was talking again.

"...You would not leave?" Some people didn't like it when girls needed help- ironically enough, these were usually other women who felt that they were yeilding to the 'damsel in distress' stereotype. For all she knew, Brad could be trying to lose her. And she really didn't want to be lost.

For a moment, she was worried. Had she offended him somehow by asking? Hae-min hadn't considered that he might think that she was being insulting. "Joesongha-," she began, but then he interrupted her, so she fell silent and listened. "Your word?..." That confused her a little, but he seemed very earnest about giving whatever it was. Perhaps it was like a promise? Yes, she decided after looking at Brad for a moment. That had to be it.

Relief, she decided, was a great emotion. She liked it. A lot. "That not necessary... holding hands," she said, smiling to let him know that she knew she was joking. "It probably slow you down more than me!" She paused, then glanced at him and mumbled, "You are very kind." Happily, she trailed behind him. Once you got used to heels, they got a lot easier to walk in; she didn't have to devote so much thought into not tripping.