Excuse Me, Miss

“What are you doing?” Minho asked, sitting next to Claire.

“Something that requires a lot of concentration,” she muttered. “Don't you have a script to memorize?”

“I'm taking a break,” he replied, looking over her shoulder. He watched her work for a while and Claire rolled her eyes. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“Because I was tired of being by myself, and you're the only friend I have on set.”

“What about Ming Hae?” Claire asked, jotting down some notes. “She seems nice.” Minho shrugged. “She is, but I think she's expecting us to date eventually,” he said, glancing around.

“Maybe you should date her,” Claire said, shuffling through her papers. “She's pretty, talented. Plus it would be great publicity for the show.”

“She's five years older than me and pretends to fall so I'll catch her,” he said pointedly. “I want someone who isn't acting all the time.”

“Says the actor,” Claire said, giving him a look. Minho leaned on his hand. “You know, blue eyes are a sign of great beauty in South Korea,” he said casually. Claire turned to look at him. “You're an idiot,” she whispered.

“Hey, I was just trying to pay you a compliant,” Minho replied. Claire suppressed a smile. “A compliant? I don't think I've ever gotten one of those before.”

“Is that not the word?” Minho asked, panic crossing his face.

“Not exactly,” Claire said evasively, turning back to her work. “Maybe you should brush up on your English.”

“Kibum was always the better English speaker,” Minho admitted. He laid his head on the table. “Do you dislike me?” he asked.

“What? No,” Claire said absently.

“Do you just dislike people?”

“Why would you ask that?” Claire returned.

“I've been here eight days and haven't seen you do anything fun,” Minho replied. “You eat your meals alone, unless you're having a lunch meeting, you don't go out after work and you don't text.”

“You think I hate people because I don't text?” Claire asked, raising her eyebrows. “Aren't you reading a lot into that?”

“Most people text their friends throughout the day,” Minho said. “You don't text, so you must not have any close friends.”

“I'm pretty sure my social life isn't any of your business,” Claire retorted, “but I do have friends. I just need to maintain a professional distance with the people working for me.”

“And what about me?” Minho asked. “Am I working for you?”

“You're the talent,” Claire replied. “Getting friendly only slows down production. I need every second I can get.”

“I don't believe you,” Minho said decidedly. “I don't know why you're this way, but I'm going to change your mind.”

Claire closed her binder. “Good luck with that,” she said, getting up. She started to walk away, then sighed. “Compliment,” she said, turning back to Minho. “The word you were looking for was compliment.” She left the break room, shaking her head.


******


“Claire,” Kyle called, waving her over. “What's up?” she asked, joining him in the middle of the room.

“We're trying to decide on a color for Minho's royal robes and I want to know what will look best on camera,” Kyle replied.

“Isn't that Jessica's job?” Claire asked.

“I heard that,” Jessica said, looking over a fitting screen. “I've told him what I think, but he wants your opinion.”

Claire turned to her brother. “Why did you bother hiring all these people if you're just going to call me every time?” she whispered heatedly.

“You're the DP,” Kyle retorted. “This is part of your job description.”

Claire sighed. “Fine, what do you have?”

Jessica clapped her hands and Minho came out from behind the screen. “Of course you're here,” Claire said, folding her arms.

“This is a forest green with a darker trim,” Jessica said. “It has some gold embroidery along the edges, particularly the sleeves.” Minho held his arms up, displaying the sleeves.

“I think this makes him appear rather contemplative,” Kyle murmured, rubbing his chin. Claire nodded. “And the other one?” she prodded.

Minho took off the robe, revealing a tee shirt and jeans. Jessica took the robe and disappeared behind the screen. Kyle's phone rang and he stepped away, talking quietly.

Minho flexed his muscles, making exaggerated faces at Claire from the platform. “Are you always this much of a showoff?” she asked.

“Why, are you impressed?” he shot back, grinning mischievously. Jessica reappeared with another robe and he stopped, looking innocent. “This one,” Jessica said, helping Minho into it, “is midnight blue with black trim. It's less ornate than the green, but I think it makes him look more dignified.”

Minho adopted a thinker's pose, staring off into the distance. He went through a few more poses before Kyle returned. “Well, which one?” he asked.

Claire studied the robe. “What do you think, Minho?” she asked. Minho blinked in surprise. “You want my opinion?”

“You're the one who has to wear it. Which robe do you think fits Hyeon better?”

Minho glanced at Kyle. “The blue one,” he replied. “It makes him seem more reserved without seeming unapproachable.”

Claire dropped her arms. “You heard the man,” she said, turning to leave. Kyle followed her out of the fitting room. “If I wanted his opinion, I would've asked for it,” he huffed. “Is this your way of getting out of things you don't want to do?”

“Maybe I'm just tired of doing your job,” Claire snapped. “You're the director, so make decisions and direct!”

“I am working my butt off to get this show off the ground, so the least you could do is help me!” Kyle hissed.

“Help you?” Claire said incredulously. “If I hadn't rewritten your script we'd still be in New York!” she retorted.

“Well if you hadn't-”

“Don't,” she warned, holding up a finger. “Don't you dare.”

Kyle sighed. “I'm sorry. I'm just under a lot of stress.” He looked down at his feet. “I'll try not to bother you unnecessarily,” he said quietly. He walked away and Claire leaned against the wall, feeling drained.

The fitting room door opened and Minho came out. “You're still here,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“Yeah,” Claire said. “So?”

“Do you want to get some coffee?” he asked.

“No,” Claire said immediately.

“Yes you do,” Minho said undauntedly. “You always have a coffee in the afternoon.”

Claire relented and they walked down the hallway together. “You know stalking someone is bad, right?” she asked.

“I'm not stalking you, I'm just very absurd,” he said lightly. Claire rolled her eyes. “Observant,” she corrected.

“What?” Minho groaned. “One of the camera guys told me it was 'absurd’.”

“Was this guy bald and wearing a vest?” Claire asked.

“Yeah, how did-”

“That's Lonny,” Claire said dismissively. “He's an idiot. Don't listen to him.”

They entered the break room and Claire poured a cup of coffee. “We start filming next week,” she said, pouring in creamer. “Are you excited?”

“Do you care?” Minho returned.

“Not really,” Claire said, stirring her coffee.

“Liar,” he said accusingly, though his eyes twinkled. “You must care. Otherwise why would you ask my opinion about the robes?”

“I told you, you're the one-”

“That has to wear it, I know,” he said, cutting her off. “Still, it was your decision, not mine. Why give me the choice?”

Claire took a long sip. “Maybe I didn't want to decide,” she said.

“Liar,” he said again. Claire felt annoyed. “Why do you ask me questions if you're going to doubt my answers?” she challenged.

“Because I want you to be honest with me,” Minho replied. “Like that day on the set. You didn't have trouble being open then.”

“I was just-”

“Caring?” Minho smiled. “It's okay, you can admit it. I won't tell anyone,” he said, winking at her. “You're really good at dealing with people. You've just got to let them get close enough.”

He grabbed a water bottle and walked to the door.

“And what makes you qualified to judge me?” Claire called defiantly. “You've only known me a week.”

Minho turned around. “Eight days,” he said with a smile. He left the room and Claire sipped her coffee, wishing she had picked the librarian instead of the idol. Maybe then I'd have some peace.

Notes