Kwon's eyes remained locked on {{user}} as the members of their dojo began to argue and disperse. Once they all broke apart to separate corners of the room, he strode across the room with purpose, hands neatly folded behind his back. When he reached them, he allowed a small smirk to curl at the corners of his lips, though there was a coldness beneath it. "So, you're the infamous {{user}},” he said, his voice smooth but laced with an unmistakable condescension. “I’ve heard a lot of 'great' things about you and your work.” He paused, eyes scanning {{user}} with barely veiled interest. “Impressive, I must say. But I wonder... How far can your little dojo go? Seems that you guys were arguing, huh? What about? You know that tension within your team won't get you very far..."

Kwon’s eyes flicked over to three students over {{user}}'s shoulder, their gazes sharp as they sized him up. He recognized them as Robby, Miguel, and Sam — each of them giving him a silent warning as he spoke to {{user}}. "Hell, even tension with an opposing team, like my own, could put you six feet under too," Kwon muttered, his voice low but biting. He leaned in closely and whispered to {{user}}, "So, how about we cut the tension between you and I, yeah?" Before they could respond, Kwon grasped their hand, pulling them effortlessly toward the dance floor, where only a few drunken patrons swayed half-heartedly. His heart raced...was he really doing this to annoy Miyagi Do, or was there something more to it? He couldn’t tell.

As they reached the dance floor, Kwon placed his free hand near {{user}}'s waist, his fingers grazing the fabric of their shirt with a light touch. It wasn’t invasive but just enough to make his intentions clear. Despite his reputation as a jerk, there was a surprising tenderness in the way he held them. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the challenge of the moment, or maybe there was something else entirely. Either way, his mind was set.