<<//Nice time for a (OPEN) smoke or two?\\>>

[Tsubasa]

A small smog of gray smoke blew out, and anyone who would stumble here would wonder why the man could do such sacrilegious activities in a holy place. It was eerie, but it was day, so the creepy factor was dimmed down a bit. Damion inhaled another whiff as he took a drag, this time blowing out through his nostrils. Why was he smoking in the cemetery? Well, the Jew liked this place, it was quite and out of the way. Also, he didn't feel the whole 'sacrilegious' part as he wasn't Christian or Catholic or whatever Gentile religions these people had.
Chuckling, he leaned against a forgotten grave with only the name written on it. He always felt that the graves with only the name were kind of lonely to the person who had died. No mention on what kind of a person they were, if they had family, how long they had lived, it was something that Damion wished wouldn't happened to him.
Finished with the fag in his hand, he threw the butt down on the ground and stomped it out. He placed both hands on the back of the grave, lifting his head to look up at the big blue sky that surrounded him. It was so vast, so strange, and as the boy lifted his right hand up he wondered if one day he could grasp it. Slowly, he retracted it with a snicker, feeling foolish. Fumbling through his pocket, he pulled out the box of fags and matches. Taking a new cig out with two fingers, he placed the box back and then moved to the matches. Damion took a match and scraped it against the grave, lighting it, then quickly lit the fag as well.
He brought the disastrous thing to his lips, inhaling, and then pulled it away as he let out the smoke in circles. Ah, life sure was good.
Not a lot of things were on his mind lately, now that he came to think about it. Nothing really... happened, ever, at all. Sure, there was a bit of gossip here and there, a party or two, but nothing really exciting. Nothing to grab hold of him and shake him wild, to sprinkle kerosene on him and light him up. Damion craved that kind of experience, despite his clashing sloth-like nature. But then again, the boy was a contradiction all wrapped up in one.
Life nowadays, to put it simply, was boring, and the brunet would be more than happy at the moment to throw away his laziness for a taste of sweet adrenaline.

[Ayu]

It was more than a little shocking; Giovanni Sentore had left the school building for more than five minutes! Granted, he had a sketchpad on his lap and a wooden box of pencils on the wall next to him, but still. Gio. Outside. In daylight. The sun caught on his rather pallid skin; his genetics may have given him a dark skin tone, but his shut-in lifestyle meant it was almost translucent in places. Not healthy.

He was sitting cross-legged on the wall of the graveyard, sketching the weather-worn stones with deep care, mouth a tight line of concentration, when he noticed the delicate smoke rings floating up from the corner of the graveyard. He watched them for a moment, flipped over the page in his sketchpad and began to scratch out a rough estimate of their ephemeral delicacy, marvelling at the contrast with the old headstones, crazed and tilted at odd angles, lichen and moss decorating their surface, which looked as if they had stood forever.

It was another few minutes before something clicked in his mind and he realised there was probably someone behind the smoke rings. He should really, as a responsible member of staff, investigate.

Ten minutes later, the art teacher put the final hatchings on the gravestones below his smoke ring drawings, laid down his pencil and slid off the wall, holding his pad against his chest as he headed absent-mindedly to the source of the smoke.

[Tsubasa]

Really, he was so enjoying his life-threatening activity, so why did it it have to be ruined?
Damion stayed in his leaning position against the slab of stone and nearly growled when he saw the teacher come into view. A teacher? Out here? This was supposed to be a nice place where he couldn't be disturbed by the higher authorities. What a drag.


Hm, maybe if he didn't move, the bloke wouldn't notice him.

Would the teacher try to confiscate his smokes? Would he turn him in? No, not his beautiful fags and not his freedom! But then, a smirk crossed his face.

Not unless he scared him first.

The brunette chuckled, taking in another cancer-inducing whiff. Then, he removed himself from his leaning position to greet the teacher first.

"Wahh? E'you, an 'teacha, aren chu? E'you lookin fer a fight?"

He chuckled, taking out the matchbox out of his pocket and twirling it around with two fingers. It was light and small enough to do so, the brand called 'lush', very popular in Cardiff. He didn't have many left, and certainly wouldn't go as low as asking that woman to send him some. Oh no, no he wouldn't.
Still twirling it, Damion whistled slighty before speaking again.

"You's be best on yer way now. Wouldn want ter hurt you."


(ooc) D: *cough totally not copied but altered from the preview thread this was in cough*

[Ayu]

"Um." Gio was slightly taken aback, but not really scared. It took a lot to scare Gio. Right now, he hadn't even noticed he was being threatened. Yes, he truly, truly was that detached from reality. Call it genius or call it madness, but Giovanni Sentore had never quite operated on the same plane as the rest of the world.

"Yes I am. Um. And no, I'm not," he replied eventually, chewing his pencil thoughtfully. "And I hope you wouldn't, no. Most people don't, I shouldn't think. I don't think I've done very much to deserve being hurt. Damion, isn't it?"