( the lighter is what he goes for first. it takes examination, consideration; he turns it over in his hands, eyes narrowed in a sort of concentration, thumbing the switch and wrinkling his nose at the smell of butane. the rest is easily grasped, from there, even if the shape of the thing differs. so then, a light; a drag; and a slow turn of his gaze to the bottle, as he does not blow the smoke out as much as simply let it curl in a lazy rise up towards the ceiling. poisoned, huh. )
You can tell from the taste, is that it?
( just a bit of banter, eh. kirma also has little hesitation in lifting the bottle for himself, cigarette pinched between two fingers as he picks it up, only glancing back to meet dabi’s eyes for a brief moment before taking a swig. he sets it down with a small grimace, the corner of his mouth pulled to the side in mild displeasure. it could be worse.
it could be better.
not all vices are equal. this is something he’s learned, in being here; it isn’t as though he had much opportunity for anything resembling them back home. games certainly fall into this category, as well. everything has to be a gamble in a casino. even small interactions like these, the push and pull that comes with meeting someone halfway, or just past it— a fact that grates at him, a person who’s never been lucky. maybe more accurately: a person who’s never been lucky in the right ways. alas, he is but a guest, for this interaction. that’s why his response has to be to tilt his head, even as his attention focuses more on the ashtrays before them, his lips finding more comfort in the shape of a cigarette than moving to speak. )
Did we. ( a hum. that’s one way of putting it. ) And what did you have in mind, for today’s.
no subject
You can tell from the taste, is that it?
( just a bit of banter, eh. kirma also has little hesitation in lifting the bottle for himself, cigarette pinched between two fingers as he picks it up, only glancing back to meet dabi’s eyes for a brief moment before taking a swig. he sets it down with a small grimace, the corner of his mouth pulled to the side in mild displeasure. it could be worse.
it could be better.
not all vices are equal. this is something he’s learned, in being here; it isn’t as though he had much opportunity for anything resembling them back home. games certainly fall into this category, as well. everything has to be a gamble in a casino. even small interactions like these, the push and pull that comes with meeting someone halfway, or just past it— a fact that grates at him, a person who’s never been lucky. maybe more accurately: a person who’s never been lucky in the right ways. alas, he is but a guest, for this interaction. that’s why his response has to be to tilt his head, even as his attention focuses more on the ashtrays before them, his lips finding more comfort in the shape of a cigarette than moving to speak. )
Did we. ( a hum. that’s one way of putting it. ) And what did you have in mind, for today’s.