"... Listen," said Wang Tae-rang, water dripping down his forelock and into his eyes, "I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding."
Set the scene: A high class, top-of-the-line restaurant. Not owned by his family, of course; he wanted this to look believable, and he would never take someone to one of those if he was serious about them. The table was by the window, tastefully arranged. There was a thin little vase with a pair of roses. Two glasses of white wine were set beside the menus, or at least they had been until a minute ago. Both were now overturned, and their contents were currently seeping into his underclothes.
All in all, not an atypical night. Trouble was, his conversation partner was usually... classier. That was maybe putting it mildly.