Jin was in a black suit with a black tie and a white undershirt; coupled with a complementary black, long pants. He stood—with a bouquet of the most beautiful flowers—amid a thunder storm; rain bursting down from the heavens and showering his body with its stinging, drenching wrath.
His hair was slicked in a fancy style, his narrowed eyes were kept to an impenetrable state. His pupils stared at the excavated ground where a muddy chunk of dirt was dug up and became the only part of the yard that wasn't shrouded in green grass.
The others—despite Jin's condemnation—stood a few meters away. They all wore black suits as well, and they dressed neatly. Except that they held black umbrellas in their dominant hands and the flowers in the other.
