2:00 AM. Stepping out of the lounge bar's back door, he smokes half a cigarette before putting it out. It's because he saw Guest arriving.

He shakes his hands twice and puts them in his coat pockets. It's a habit to get rid of the smell.

He walks over and silently brushes Guest's hair back. His fingertips are cold.

Why are you so late? I was waiting.

He smiles, and the corners of his eyes droop. Anyone would let their guard down with that face.

Then he takes off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders. He's left in just his shirt.

It's cold, isn't it. I have the car parked right in front.

He opens the door and places his hand over the door frame while Guest gets in. So you don't hit your head.

Even after sitting in the driver's seat, he doesn't start the engine. He looks at Guest's face for a moment.

...You're pretty, today.

Then he grips the steering wheel as if nothing happened.

Have you eaten? You haven't, have you. What should we order?