Writer's block for Hired Gun. May not update in awhile. (Sorry, Kuroui!) Brain jumped off the T/I ship and sailed to this sparsely occupied vessel.

Inspired by Ryu-chan's "Chasing The Lightning". Look it up in Google. It's a series of Claymore fanfics, and very well-written.

Edit: Changed Teresa's hair colour to black... since this is an AU and all...

Are you able to hear my voice?

1 o'clock at night, on Heart Station

A secret hertz that still connects us

Are you receiving the frequencies of my heart?

Heart station of sinners

A secret only God knows

- Heart Station, Utada Hikaru

Chapter 1: The Beginning of Our Duet

Stepping out of the 4th floor's locker room, she reveled in the feeling of the cool night breeze on her skin. It felt so refreshing, especially after a strenuous 4-hour training in the university's dojang* in preparation for the upcoming inter-school championships. Irene was part of Claymore University's Taekwondo Club, its president in fact, and was the captain of the school team. Last year, as a Year 1, she had earned reputation for her swifter-than-the-eye kicks in the arena, knocking opponents out cold before they knew what hit them. Now, as a Year 2, she was known as "The Lightning" both in the Taekwondo circle and in her school, treated as a prized possession of the Claymore Taekwondo Club. An offer to admit her into the National Sparring Team came at the beginning of the year, which she readily accepted. So for now, the athlete had to maintain herself in top form with the school. Said athlete placed her bag down beside the parapet and stretched her arms above her head, pulling the muscles in her limbs and back to relax them. Her hair was still damp from a quick shower, moistening the towel she put around her shoulders with water. A few stray droplets managed to bypass that piece of fabric to land onto her fitting V-neck tee. Irene used the towel to run through her hair again as she reached down to extract her phone from her bag. It was an iPhone 4S, bought for her by her mother just two months ago, as a birthday gift to replace the antique device she had been using ever since she accidentally dropped her precious white Blackberry into the condominium's swimming pool.

It was 7.14pm. She had agreed to meet Teresa at 8.30 for a late dinner, so she had time to spare. So what should I do now? Irene rested her elbows on the parapet, her chin on one hand. There was no pressing need for her to study right now, since she already had a head start on her assignment. Should she just head to the mall first and do some window shopping? But shopping was not really her thing, much less "window" shopping. Irene's gaze drifted downwards, and she saw that the lights of the convenience store in the campus were still on. Well, I can afford to have a small bite now. As if to show approval, Irene's stomach growled lightly. A bite it is. She hitched her bag onto a shoulder, then headed down the stairs. But as she was halfway down the steps toward the 2nd floor, something caught her attention: the soft, melodic notes of a piano. Irene cocked her head slightly. It came from the direction of the school's music rooms, which belonged to the Music Club. But why was someone still practicing this late? If Irene was not wrong, their competition was already over in late April. Curiosity piqued, the silver-haired student went back up the steps and walked over to the music rooms.

The music, she realized, did not come from the major music room the Club used for their full-strength practices. Instead, it came from one of the two side rooms that were used for sectional practices or just for casual playing. Irene stepped quietly to the one with its lights on. She peeked in through the tinted glass windows, to see that a student was on the room's grand piano. The piano was angled so that the musician's face was not obscured, and Irene, examining the female, found herself thankful for that fact. The student at the piano was beautiful. She had wavy blond locks that fell just past her shoulders, and framed her delicate face. Straight nose, soft lips. Her eyes were currently closed, as her fingers danced nimbly over the piano keys, still playing out the piece Irene had heard from the stairs. As Irene watched, the musician slowly built up the rhythm and transited smoothly into a phase much less calm and more upbeat before. The student's eyes finally opened, and even through the dark-tinted glass, Irene could see they were beautiful. Her attention was fully caught by the vision before her.

Irene was a lesbian, and not a closet one either, not anymore. Her first two relationships had been with males, but she never could connect with them. She felt more physically-attracted to those of the same sex, even when her second boy had a body that other girls would die for. When Irene switched team, she stayed in the closet at first, dating her first girlfriend under wraps. When that girl left her because she felt Irene was too sensitive about her own sexuality, the silver-haired girl started to change, and eventually stopped hiding her sexual orientation. It was a relief, really. What's better was that her mother did not question her, just accepted and loved her like before.

Time passed, and Irene still could not tear her eyes away. It was not only because the musician was beautiful. It was the emotions that she conveyed through her entire self, her showmanship, which captivated Irene. She looked completely immersed in what she was doing, her face looked as if she was in another world altogether. Her shoulders swayed gently with her arms, her hands, like a dance as a personal touch in accompaniment to the piece of music she was playing. Irene's mother was a professional musician, specializing in both the piano and cello. She had taken her daughter to numerous performances and concerts, as well as some of her own shows, and the younger learnt how to appreciate the art and identify talents in it. The lovely apparition before her right now showed the basic characteristics that a "talent" should have. Irene observed her more closely. This girl may very well reach the top cailbre, one day…

The blonde's hands slowed as she brought the current music piece to an elegant close. A small smile graced her lips, as her hands started up again, beginning another piece. Irene angled her ear closer to the window, trying to identify the name of the music the soft notes belonged to. As the low melody drifted into her ears, Irene felt a sense of familiarity…

'FLY ME TO THE MOON, AND LET ME PLAY AMONG THE STARS-'

Irene jumped uncharacteristically, her phone's ringtone disrupting her aural concentration and startling her. She quickly hid behind the wall next to the window she was peeping through, her heartbeat at rapid-fire as she shoved her hand into her bag and wrenched the phone out.

Incoming call – Teresa

'-IN OTHER WORDS, HOLD MY HAND… IN OTHER WORDS, DARLING, KISS M-'

Irene's hands fumbled a little before she was able accept the call. Damned Bayonetta's techno rendition of this song… She made a mental note to change the ringtone as she pressed the phone against her ear. It was then she noticed the piano had stopped. She looked through the window quickly in horror, and saw that the piano's seat was vacated. The music room's door swung open, pouring light into the dark corridor. The fair blonde she was scrutinising just moments earlier stepped out and, noticing her, fixed her with a curious, and mildly apprehensive, gaze.

'Hello? Irene? Listen, I'm going to be a little late. I need to go to Kate's home and hand her something. Can we push the meal to 9?' Teresa, oblivious to that fact that nothing she said was registering with Irene, sounded a dash frustrated.

The martial artist, the one who had ice water running through her veins, the one who showed no overt emotion whatsoever in the arena, the one famed for her lightning-fast knockout kicks, blanked out, with a mild heat rising from her neck, in front of the stranger's unwavering scrutiny. Her lips were parted, but no sound came out. The situation happened too fast, too awkward. She felt like a Peeping Tom who was caught in the act.

'Hello? Woman, are you there? Did you hear what I said? Hello? Ire-,'

Irene, with great internal effort, pushed past the invisible blockage in her windpipe. 'L-listen, I'll call you back. Thanks.'

'Huh? What's goin-,' Irene hung up and lowered her phone slowly, eyes never leaving the girl in front of her.

'Um…' The slightly shorter blonde started tentatively. 'May I help you?' She had a voice that favoured a mildly higher pitch, but it did not grate on the ears. Instead, her soft-spoken manner made it sound rather melodic. Like the keys on the piano. Irene mused, before giving herself a forceful mental slap. She cleared her throat, putting on her usual indifferent mask.

'Um,' Irene unintentionally mimicked the first words spoken to her by the lovely girl, and cringed inwardly. Did she sound like an idiot? 'No, actually… I was just passing, then I noticed someone playing the piano. So I came to have a look.'

'Oh.' The blonde suddenly looked shier; maybe a little embarrassed, a faint shade of pink crossed her cheeks. 'You… were listening?'

Irene ran through a thousand possible replies in her head, even as a small part of her brain told her she was helpless. Flying kicks and punches? Sure, no problem. Uncomfortable social situation? Brain packs up and leaves her sprawling in the ditch. Why?

'Yes,' The silver-haired student noticed the twitch in the blonde's lips. 'Well, you were playing very well, so I stopped to listen.' Irene noticed the faint pink becoming a shade darker.

'Thank you.' The girl smiled at her, somewhat more at ease now, which alleviated Irene's tension too. 'You're Irene-san, aren't you?'

The elven woman blinked, inclining her head slightly. 'Yes. How did you know?'

The delicate student's smile widened further. 'Irene, last year's National Taekwondo Champion, "The Lightning". Your pictures were in the news and your matches are on Youtube. And I think you look quite… unique?' She tested the word. 'It's rather difficult not to recognise you.'

Irene lifted an eyebrow, her hand unconsciously reached up to touch the pointed tips of her ears, a slight genetic defect.

The shorter girl's eyes widened. 'Oh, no! I wasn't talking about your ears. I'm so sorry! I was just, I was just… you know… your hair…' She seemed to lose steam in the middle of her sentence, confused at the bemused expression that appeared on the athlete's face.

'It's alright. I'm not bothered about my ears anymore.' Irene conceded a small smile to reassure the girl, whose hand slipped up to the back of her neck, rubbing it lightly. She bit her lip, looking unsure of what to say next.

'What's your name?' Irene ventured.

'Flora.' The blonde replied.

'I see. That's a nice name.' Irene gave another, wider smile. 'It fits you.'

Flora's blush darkened more, so that it was just obvious from where Irene was standing. Her feet shuffled lightly on the grey cement floor. She looks so delicate… Just like a flower. Fitting indeed.

'Are you a Year 1?'

Flora nodded.

'No wonder I've not seen your face around. Though it's been five months since the year started.' The athlete gave a mini-shrug. 'Well,' she moved closer to Flora. 'I'm Irene. Nice to meet you.' She extended a hand. The younger stared at the proffered hand for awhile, before reaching out to clasp it with her own. Flora's hand felt so soft against her own, Irene realised. But the younger's grip was firm.

'Nice to meet you too, Irene-san.'

'Drop the "san". Just "Irene" is fine.'

'Alright. Thank you… Irene.' Flora glanced back into the music room. 'Were you going somewhere?'

'Oh.' Irene got reminded of the bite she wanted to take just now. But the shock of being found out by Flora seems to have driven the urge away. She drew her phone again, and read a new message from Teresa: '9pm, you funny little girl.' She checked the time: 7.50. Forty more minutes to burn… 'Yes, but I still have time.' The athlete looked at the piano, then back at the junior. 'Do you mind if I stayed and listened to you play?'

The blonde looked rather surprised, but recovered from it. 'No, I don't.' She tilted her head toward the music room while stepping back in, giving an unspoken invitation to her senior, who accepted it without a second's thought.

Air-conditioning surrounded her the moment Irene stepped in, quickly making the water droplets still in her t-shirt feel cold against her back. The taller student shivered slightly as she swept her gaze around the room. Instruments were arranged neatly around the sides of the room, leaving a clear space in the middle, making the slightly small room seem, well, spacious. Irene took in a deep breath, enjoying the fact that this club room did not have the smell of perspiration that the dojang had during training sessions. In fact, the room smelled as if its wooden floor had just been mopped, a faint fragrance lingering in the air.

'Nice place you have here. Not as stuffy as our training room.' Irene informed the musician.

Flora smiled, turning to face the lithe martial artist. With clearer lighting in here than out in the corridor, Irene could properly look into the blonde's eyes. If what she saw through the window was beautiful, it was nothing compared to what she was looking at right now. Flora's eyes were a light shade of green, and they were so clear, as if looking into an actual pair of precious gemstones. The corners of Irene's lips unconsciously turned upward.

'Thanks. We cleaned it up just two days ago. Glad to know the effort was worth it.' She cocked her head. 'It's not as easy to clean your training room, is it? All the mats and all…'

'It's not.' Irene conceded. As a Year 1, Irene had had to wipe each individual mat in the dojang, along with the rest of her batch that is, with only a piece of cloth to each student. It was the coach's way of teaching his students patience and humility. Patience was one of Irene's strong points, and she certainly felt humble after removing the smell of feet from countless mats, not to mention with the suspicion she had that her back was broken after that stint.

As Flora took her place in front of the grand piano, Irene grabbed a chair and placed it at an appropriate distance from the instrument, taking care to ensure that she could capture most of Flora's profile from her position. Said musician took one last glance at her one-man audience with a slight tinge of amusement, before losing herself into the music again. She seemed not to mind that a senior she barely knows was currently gazing at her unblinkingly. Must have performed before, Irene realised as she watched Flora's eyes close as her fingers floated over the piano keys. As the soothing melody filled the room, Irene felt strangely peaceful. It reminded her of her mother, who was currently overseas on a show tour, who would often play the piano for her daughter when the child was sick in bed. "Music therapy", her mother called it. She believed as long as a person loved music, it would have a healing effect on her, no matter what condition she was in.

Irene smiled softly to herself as she slowly moved her gaze over Flora's face, taking in the gentle features set in that delicate countenance. Her eyes eventually landed on the junior's lips. Kissable, that's what they would call it. Those sculpted, pale cherry lips. She wondered if they would feel as tender as they looked, against her own…

The senior caught herself again, blinking lightly at the realisation of what she was thinking. She observed the pianist again. Irene rarely felt so physically attracted to others before. There was that one time with her second girlfriend, but their relationship had remained more physical than anything else. Alas, soothe thy raging heart, fool. Irene thought to herself. She'd only really interacted with Flora just barely fifteen minutes ago. This may just be a passing fancy, that's all… right?

Time passed, and as Flora drew to a close in yet another song, Irene checked the time again. 8.36pm. Time to go. She stood, catching Flora's attention, the junior mirroring her actions.

'I've got to go now. An appointment.' Irene explained, slinging her bag onto her shoulder.

'I see.' Flora went over to the door, with Irene close behind, and held the door open for her senior. 'Goodbye.' She said with a smile.

Ever felt like you had more to say but nothing was in your mind?

'Bye.' Irene took two steps before turning around again. 'Hope to see you around.'

'I hope so too.' Came the reply.

Irene's eyes lingered on the junior a little while longer, before she went on her way. A small part of her recognised the sense of reluctance with which she had done so.

-Half an hour later-

Irene walked into café, her eyes sweeping around until she found Teresa sitting at a table for two at the back, legs crossed and eyes staring at something outside the modest establishment. The elven female sat down at the table, depositing her pack beside her chair and drawing her friend's attention, albeit briefly.

'You're late.' The attractive female told Irene, glancing down at her watch briefly before returning to stare outside.

'You amaze me, Sherlock.' Was Irene's comeback as she turned her head to follow Teresa's line of vision. It was directed at one of the outdoor tables of the café, a couple was making out in the open night, the girl with her hand lower than it should be in public. She raised a brow at her friend, who somehow managed to see it.

'How long do you think it'll take before they start having sex in front of everyone?' Teresa tossed the question over.

'Why do you even care?'

Teresa finally met her friend's eyes fully. 'Couples engaging in PDA forfeit their privacy and anyone is free to look and ogle. I don't and never want to understand that.'

Irene merely shrugged. 'Can we get our food now? I'm hungry.'

Teresa waved a waiter over, who took a double take at the woman, and they placed their orders.

'He couldn't stop staring at your rack.' Irene teased, earning an eye-roll from Teresa.

'I shall ignore that.' She folded her arms on the table and leaned slightly forward. 'And why were you late? I thought you said your training would end early today.'

'I was… held up.' Irene said simply. Never would she tell Teresa she stayed back to watch a Year 1 who she barely knows play the piano, because she felt the girl was beautiful. The black-haired woman would never let her rest, after her unhealthy relationship with her second girlfriend. Teresa tilted her head to the side. If she did not buy the vague excuse, she did not show any sign of digging further.

'I see. Just make sure you don't get held up so many times it starts giving me gastric problems.'

'Well, I'm sorry for making you wait today.'

Teresa waved the apology away nonchalantly. 'I did push back our meal too.' She paused as the drinks arrived. 'So, when is your mom returning?'

-Wind Flower-

Two days after the night she met Flora, Irene started staying back to linger outside the music room to listen to the girl play her instruments. Mostly she just stood outside and peered in through the tinted glass, but there were a few separate occasions where she knocked on the door and received the junior's invitation to go in. The athlete memorised the time that the musician would go to the room. Once she even stayed until Flora left at ten minutes before nine. Irene felt like a stalker, but she always managed to rationalise that she stayed back for the music played out by those talented fingers. When Flora was around, however, her eyes begged to differ. Often she caught herself being too busy gazing at the delicate blonde to truly appreciate the music. What was more concerning, however, was Teresa's growing suspicion of her friend's frequent loitering in the campus until after dark. Irene's excuses had degraded from training, to studies, to personal training, to "I don't feel like going home yet." Maybe the next excuse would be that she foresaw herself having diarrhoea and did not want a more expensive water bill at home.

Bottom line: Irene was strongly attracted to Flora. No matter how she wanted to deny and rationalise, the truth always burst to the surface during the music sessions. And so the question now is, should the athlete take a step with the musician?

It was not answered by the 21-year-old, not until a little more than two weeks later.

'Get me a Hershey's choc bar and a bottle of green tea, would you?' Teresa called after Irene as the silver-haired student stepped out of the air-conditioned study room that they were studying in. The slim woman felt stiff after staying in the room for a few hours and announced her intention to go to the convenience store to get a snack, which led to an order list from her friends.

'And a bag of chips.' Sophia added. 'Wouldn't be too heavy for you, would it?' She flashed a smile. Noel made no action whatsoever, earphones plugged into her ears, engrossed in the stack of notes on the table in front of her.

'Pigs.' Irene muttered under her breath. 'Lazy ones at that.'

'I heard that.' Teresa's drawl floated through before Irene shut the door.

She made her way down the hallway, running a hand through her hair to smooth it down. Often, after a long study session, Irene would look at herself in the mirror and find her hair tousled. She did not even remember how it got that way, most of the time. She sighed and stretched her back. It always felt good to walk around after staying still for a long period of time. A quick glance down at the watch told her it was 4.35pm. About two and a half more hours before the group of four would leave the school for dinner together.

As Irene approached the corner, a familiar feminine voice drifted to her ears.

'I said no! Now leave me alone!' It sounded forceful, and upset. Flora? It was Flora's voice, definitely. She sounded more unique than most people. At least to Irene, anyway.

Irene peered around the corner. It indeed was Flora, and she was being accosted by three other guys. The Taekwondo athlete recognised them, the school's football jocks. The two standing a little further back were two muscleheads who always followed their master around like faithful dogs. The "master", was the one closest to Flora, at an uncomfortable proximity. Hank Gregs, Irene recalled his name. A well-known bully in the campus. Irene had never really paid much attention to him normally, but right now, she decided she hated his guts. Hated his guts for laying a thick hand on Flora's shoulder. He turned the girl around with some force.

'Come on, baby.' Gregs cooed with his disgusting, oily voice. 'You won't regret it. I'll show you how a real man looks like,' He put his hand over his crotch and thrust it up in Flora's direction, eliciting a look of utter revulsion from the woman. 'And feels like. Haha… You'll be begging for more when-,' He did not get to finish his sentence. Irene felt surprised, and smiled involuntarily. Flora had swung her fist at his jaw, making his head snap to the side. Gregs staggered a bit, his hand reaching up to touch where he was hit, then glared at Flora.

'I'm gonna make you regret that. So. Fucking. Bad.' The jock took hold of Flora's wrists in a death grip and pushed, slamming her against the wall and pinning her there.

'Oi,' Irene's voice carried over to them clearly. 'Get your filthy hands off her.' She walked sure-footedly over. Flora's eyes widened as she caught sight of the senior.

'Damn,' One of the cronies grunted. 'She's that Taekwondo girl, boss. Watch out.'

'Shut your mouth.' Gregs hissed back before turning his attention back to the approaching martial artist. He put on lop-sided grin. 'What's up, poppet? Lonely? Looking for a threeso-,'

Again, he did not get to finish his sentence. Irene used a knife-hand chop downwards at Gregs' elbow, instilling pain in his arm and causing him to let go of one of Flora's hand. Without giving him time to react, Irene reached forward and wrenched his other hand away as well. Stepping between Flora and Gregs, she shoved the jock backwards, making him stumble foolishly. The two cronies growled, not unlike well-trained hounds, and stepped forward, catching their leader and getting ready to pounce on the offending woman. Gregs recovered his balance and immediately made his way toward the silver-haired woman.

'You fucking dyke!' He roared as he drew a closed fist back to throw a punch. To an outsider, the size of the fist and its owner was intimidating, threatening. But to the trained fighter, he was slow, too overcome with anger to fully concentrate on what he was doing. He made a mistake of drawing his fist back; it gave Irene a clear sign that he intended to punch her. Using the time Gregs needed to extend his arm fully from its withdrawn position to make contact with her face, Irene's hand shot out directly from her side, fist forming halfway in its path and making painful impact on her victim's nose. She felt the crushing of the bones in the bridge of his nose against her knuckles. Irene swiftly followed up the punch by slamming her foot into his groin. A forceful exhale burst from Gregs mouth and his eyes promptly welled up with tears from the pain, but it was not over just yet. As he curled inward from the pain, his hands moving to cover his crotch, Irene shot an open palm strike into his solar plexus. The meathead, mouth now gaping like a fish, crumpled to the floor, curled in a foetal position and whimpering.

His cronies stood frozen, not daring to move as they witnessed their leader get hammered with strikes by the martial artist. They shuffled backwards involuntarily as Irene fixed them with a poisonous glare.

'Get out of my sight.' She spat. 'Now.'

They could not stop staring in fear at the woman even as they timidly stepped forward and dragged the traumatised Gregs away from the scene. Irene waited until they rounded a corner before turning to the junior behind her. Flora was staring at her, with those shining green eyes, but Irene could detect the relief in them.

'Thank you.' Flora said with a smile, that turned into a slight grimace as her hand, the one she punched Gregs with, twitched.

Irene looked down at the hand, and saw that the last two knuckles were red. Flora held her hand gently with the other. 'I think… I hurt myself.'

Concerned, Irene took the wounded hand in her own, examining the red, slightly swelling area. She gently prodded it with a finger, and Flora's hand twitched again.

'I think you cracked your knuckles…' Irene said softly, as she ran a thumb over the wounded area. 'Does it hurt a lot? Do the bones feel misplaced?'

'It hurts… But I don't know about the bones.'

'Can you move your fingers?'

Flora managed to raise the last two, albeit with lots of pain.

'Ah… I see. It should be fine. Come.' Irene stepped down the hallway, pulling at Flora's hand to make the junior follow her.

She made her way to the locker room, and quickly walked over to her own locker. Letting go of Flora's hand, she motioned to the bench in front of the row of metal compartments. 'Sit down first. I'll bandage the fingers for you.' The blonde sat down, as the silver-haired student rummaged for awhile in her locker, then extracted a roll of adhesive tape. A medical one, that is. She placed herself next to Flora, and took the latter's hand again.

'This will only take a minute…' Irene informed the blonde as she wrapped the tape around the base of Flora's last two fingers and her knuckles. When she was done, she held her work up for inspection. Satisfied, she asked, 'Is it too tight?' Flora shook her head, and this action somehow elicited a smile from Irene.

'Well, then. Try not to move your fingers around too much. If you think it's serious, you should go see a doctor tomorrow or the day after. They'll give you a support to wear and let your fingers rest on it.'

'Thanks, again.' Flora gave her another smile, one reciprocated by her senior. 'You were amazing just now.' The blonde's smile widened, as did Irene's eyes, though fractionally.

'Um… well, I'm trained.' Irene cleared her throat, starting to feel awkward under Flora's unwavering gaze. 'It's nothing much.'

'Could you teach me some of that?' Flora inquired with interest. 'If you have the time, that is.'

'Oh. Of course.' She cocked her head, a playful smile growing on her lips. 'But in return for the lessons, what will you give me?' She felt amused at Flora's blush that rose at her last few words.

'Um. I-, uh…' The junior stammered, but was saved from the trouble by the senior.

'If I teach you some of my techniques, then will you let me listen to you play music?'

Flora looked a little taken back. 'Of course,' She repeated Irene's words. A second later, the beginnings of a mischievous smile grew. 'But… I think you've already been listening to me play for awhile now.' Irene's heart stopped. 'Is that spot by the window really that comfortable?' Irene's mouth slowly dropped open, her brain screaming at her to deny doing anything of that sort.

'W-what? No, I… I never…' Irene's voice drifted off, realising how futile she sounded. Especially in front of Flora's bemused expression.

'You know, normally people would change their hiding spot after being caught the first time. So I just thought that you preferred standing out in the corridor, rather than sit in an air-conditioned room…' Flora teased her senior, who kept her lips pursed, refusing to pout and fighting valiantly to keep her blush from rising obviously to her cheeks.

Keeping Irene uncomfortable for a prolonged time on purpose, the woman refusing to look at her junior, Flora decided to give the senior a break.

'Anyway,' She said lightly. 'I can't really play for awhile now, can I?' She held up her injured hand to Irene to make a point.

'That means you still owe me something.' Irene tried to take control over the situation again. Just then, a brilliant idea popped into her mind. 'Would you mind giving me your phone number?' She ventured.

Flora blinked, her eyes never leaving Irene's gaze. There you go, Irene. The elfin-eared woman told herself. Making a first move. The silent eye contact went on for awhile, and the senior took the time to appreciate Flora's eyes again. Was she being too obvious?

'Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars… Let me see what spring is like-'

Irene's phone rang, disrupting the silent exchange. She cursed in her head. At least it was not a techno piece anymore. She had changed it to a more jazzy type by Utada Hikaru. Irene checked the screen and groaned inwardly.

Incoming call – Teresa

Damned woman! Why do you have to ruin all my moments? She thought as she received the call.

'Hello? Irene? Where have you gone? You're taking so long-,'

'I'll call you back.' Irene cut her off and ended the call, albeit feeling a little guilty.

'Do you need to be somewhere now?' Flora asked her senior.

Irene shook her head. She then held out the phone to Flora, giving the latter a pointed look. The blonde smiled shyly, and took the phone, typing in her phone number. She handed the phone back when she was done, and said, 'Send me a message, so I can save your number in my phone.' Flora gave another smile and stood up, Irene following her actions.

'I will.'

'Well then,' Flora made a move towards the door. 'Bye.'

'Bye.'

Irene watched Flora until the door swung closed. Slowly, she sank back down onto the bench, a silly grin plastered on her face.

Score.

*dojang - training hall in Korean. Equivalent of dojo.

Hope none of you has any violent objections against Taekwondo or any form of martial arts. (No pun intended)

Congratulations on trudging through that plethora of words. *handshake* Please review, comment, criticise, etc, on my non-action scenes! I feel it needs improvement, but don't know what or how. Thanks for your help!