He pounded the emergency button.
No response.
Tried the phone.
Dead.
"Fuck."
"That's helpful."
"Do you have a better idea?"
"No. But panicking won't help."
He glared at her.
She glared back.
A voice crackled through the speaker.
Barely audible.
"—technical issue—repair crew—45 minutes—"
Then static.
"Did they just say 45 minutes?" Soorin asked.
"Yeah."
"Great. Just great."
She sat on the floor.
Back against the wall.
Haejin stayed standing.
Pacing the small space.
"You're going to wear a hole in the floor."
"I'm thinking."
"About what?"
"About how we're stuck in an elevator. In Vegas. With no AC."
She looked up.
He was right.
The vents were silent.
Already, the air felt thick.
Warm.
"Sit down. You're making me anxious."
"I don't take orders from you."
"Fine. Pace yourself to death. See if I care."
He stopped.
Looked at her.
"Why are you always so difficult?"
"Me? You're the one who accused me of leaking your song."
"I didn't accuse you."
