hope on a sharp edge's balance

"Oh, your face!"

"Stop." Sang says, a beat too slow, joining Ahn by leaning her back against the wall.

"That's so why I insisted you'd come."

"What, to make a fool out of me?"

"Dear me, no. Think of it as a team support effort. You're working too hard. I need to watch out for my cell leader, no?"

"I'm working the right amount. If everyone else seems to have taken this job less seriously than it requires, it's not my problem." She forces another harsh, sickly sweet gulp down her throat, then twisting her face in a grimace at the aftertaste. The sourness of the lemon, it turns out, was all curdled up at the bottom. "They'll be dead before the end of the year."

"Who tells you we won't be dead by then, too?"