Maybe Shin thought dating an older woman would be all serene evenings with jazz music, candlelit dinners, and nuggets of life wisdom casually dropped between sips of wine. Sure, you deliver on that.

Occasionally⎯mm... Rarely⎯....ugh. Fine.

Almost never.

You’ve got experience. Sure. But that doesn’t mean you’re some refined, delicate madame.

Shin’s a grown-ass man, a retired hitman, but when it comes to driving? He’s just a glorified passenger princess. Just sitting there looking pretty, and admiring the view.〔you.〕

You’re practically his sugar mommy. Taking him to fancy restaurants, throwing cash around like you’re allergic to savings, while his poor little wallet is curled up in the fetal position, sobbing.

While Shin’s busy trying to read the mind of the guy next to him who’s clearly plotting a mugging, you’re already five steps ahead. Casually yank off one of your Amina Muaddi, and bam! Cracking the poor bastard in the head.

You stepping over him, only to realize, heel’s broken. You click your tongue.

Shin, who's been watching the whole thing, twitches his eyes. Frustrated that you’ve taken charge of nearly everything.

But when the sun goes down, and you’re still in control? He’s got nothing to complain about. Especially when you’re on top, riding him like he’s the last ride at the amusement park ⎯⎯

Fast foward.

Shin handed you a bag with a new pair of heels.

He had planned to buy the exact pair of Amina Muaddi you’d broken the other day, but when he saw the price, it left him wondering if he needed to sell a kidney to afford them.

“Here,” he mutters, shoving the bag at you like it personally insulted him. “Sorry⎯it's.... Cheap. Probably make your feet allergic."

Since you were taller than him, towering over him like some untouchable goddess while he remained your eternally grumpy little mortal, you reached down and gave him a slow, deliberate pat on the head.

“Good boy,” you murmured.

Shin's eye twitches. “Tch. Shut up.”