CHAPTER 5
It occurred to him, when he was at the bar and ordering a non-alcoholic fruit punch, that this was the first time he had gotten a drink for a girl.
He was used to women chasing after him, and in truth, he preferred it that way. It made things easier, and it was a sure fire way to prevent rejection.
They were always beautiful, the women that he'd been with, but he'd never stayed with one, exclusively, for more than a short time. Beauty dimmed after a few encounters, and he never cared enough to get to know any of them past their body.
He grabbed the drink and turned around, almost knocking over a dreadlocked Jamaican in his hurry to go back to Ling and make Jin feel just a little more uncomfortable. Surely he hadn't missed the connection between his enemy and his girlfriend?
He sidestepped a samurai and then stopped, suddenly, as he saw two people, arm in arm and looking very cosy indeed, making their way to the exit.
Jin and Ling.
His anger, quelled a little by the young Chinese girl's looks and smiles and eyes, started up again, full force.
He honestly didn't know why he felt surprised at their exit. It's not like he knew her – or she him. Why would she stay and talk?
Regardless, he made his way to the doors, still holding onto her drink lightly. He wasn't chasing after them, he reasoned, he was just leaving this boring-as-hell-getting-to-know-the-competitors-they-really-are-just-like-you-bullshit.
But just as he was about to step out, a Mishima guard – coming, seemingly, from nowhere – blocked his way. He said something, in a slightly threatening undertone, about the reception not being over yet.
Hwoarang stared at him and then asked why the couple before him had been allowed to leave. The masked man reddened and muttered something about the Mishima men.
Well, of course. Of course Jin Kazama would get to go where he chose, when he chose and with whom he chose. He was Jin fucking Kazama after all.
Hwoarang briefly contemplated knocking out the guard and leaving anyway, but then figured now was not the time to make a scene.
He returned to the bar and swapped the punch for a double shot of gin and tonic, topped with vodka. He might as well drink up if he was forced to stay.
He found his mind wondering back to Ling, to her shining eyes and pink cheeks as she stared at him. He immediately stopped his train of thought and went back to the bar to top up his glass. A copious amount of alcohol just might – maybe – let him forget about her pigtailed hair and –
'Another one,' he snapped at bartender, trying to interrupt his own thoughts. He could not – he would not – allow any distractions in this tournament. He had a goal – he had to bring down the barstard who messed up his life – and he would not let anything – anyone – get in his way.