Yoongi doesn't settle for anything less than perfection when it comes to his performances. They're his fucking livelihood--(mostly) paying the bills, satisfying his hunger for long enough until he finds the next opportunity to pounce on. He's exactly right on stage, bleeding himself out from the tip of his tongue to the pads of his fingers, all for just a few minutes of that nirvana. That feeling is worth almost anything, and no work is too great for it either. That is, when work can actually happen. Yoongi curses at the sudden skittering of the music mid-practice, everything coming to an abrupt halt as he gets another welcome reminder of just how broke he is. He fiddles with the old stereo system he pawned off some cousin of a friend a year ago, waving off Hoseok's help. Gotta buy new shit, he puts on his endless mental to-do list. Gotta make money to buy new shit. It takes a good ten minutes and some tough love, but eventually Yoongi gets the hunk of plastic to start working again.

When he looks back up at the rest of the practice room, his gaze immediately snaps to the dark-haired boy in the corner, lounging against the wall. He sticks out for precisely that reason, the rest of the crew going over the moves, stretching out sore muscles, still present in the moment. Apparently Jungkook thinks the impromptu break is as good as any reason to go and do whatever the fuck he wants. Yoongi can't deny that he's a good dancer--more than good, maybe the only one in the room who actually has the technical skills to match Hoseok's choreography--but that's about as high as his opinion goes. Everything left over he could easily do without.

Yoongi doesn't waste time in coming over, nudging the boy's knee with the toe of his boot to force his attention back. They've already wasted enough time as it is. "Off your ass, Jeon," he says none too gently, watching those eyes open back up as he hovers above the younger boy. "We're not finished tonight. The last run is still sloppy."