"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Rorick Skyve
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He didn't smoke. Of course he didn't, why did he even ask in the first place? Stupid of him to assume that, or even consider the possibility. All had gone well so far, but he just had to bring in the awkwardness, like always. Now Cristo probably thought of him as a chain-smoker, or something to that effect. Nothing good, that much was sure.

Maxim struggled to find his words for a second, his fingers still lingering over the tiny box on the table. He had to clear up the misunderstanding, right? Only logical thing to do here, better than to let the subject float in the room, or on the table. Not sure where he had wanted to go with that metaphor.

He set his hand down on the matchbox, firmly grasping it. "I see. Sorry for asking, I just- doesn't matter why I asked, really, too complicated to explain. In any case, I don't smoke either. Probably doesn't seem very believable after such a question, right?" Erasing the doubt by tackling it head-on. Best strategy he had.

"My father's a smoker, so I guess that's why I had those in the first place." He demonstratively waved the matchbox around, causing muffled rustling noises. Could one call that rustling? Maybe clattering was the correct word? There he was again, trailing off. Had to focus on the matter at hand.

"So anyway, I just wanted to clear that up, alright? I have actually told my father to quit this habit more than once, for years now. To no avail, sadly. Suppose there's nothing I can do about it."

He tried to smile at Cristo, going for a natural one, though the final result looked rather helpless. Maxim looked back at the box of matches in his hand. Suddenly, he felt an irrational hate for it rising within him. This thing, it represented that habit of his father that would kill him sooner or later, he was sure of it. Not only that, but now it was the reason for his conversation with Cristo to derail, make him feel insecure again, just as he had grown comfortable around the boy. He began to apply more pressure on it, tried to crush it with his hands. To hell with it.

He looked back at his table partner, avoiding eye contact at first, but finally found the courage to look him straight in the eye. "Hope you don't mind if I do this. Just don't be frightened, okay?"

With that, he raised his hand with the box, only to swing it forward and release his grip on it, sending the tiny object to fly. He had aimed for no specific direction, just anywhere away from Cristo. Maxim didn't even see it landing nor did he care to know where it had landed. He simply was glad to be rid of it.

It took him all but one moment to regret his action. That certainly didn't help in making him look any less strange. The other boy probably wanted him to leave now, they always did after he did anything unusual. Maybe he should just up and leave by himself, before Cristo could ask him to? Spare himself the embarrassment? He wanted to, but he couldn't. Something kept him glued to his seat and so all that was left for him to do was sheepishly stare at his new acquaintance, feeling like a wounded rabbit in front of a snake.
Peoples and Sheeples for V6
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Land of Milk and Honey, Don't Fail Me Now · Memories from the Past