;;need a ride
Truth be told, Ginko had no need or desire of any form of compensation. He smiled in amusement and sat back in his seat, removing the object from his mouth. “If you think I smoke, your wrong. These aren’t cigarettes. If you knew what they did, then you’d be thankful I smoke them. Believe me.” He stood from his seat, reaching into his pocket and handing the man five dollars in yen. The subway stopped by at that moment, wheels squeaking to a halt. The door slid open for passengers to board. Ginko entered and took his place standing beside one of the poles; it was the polite thing to do. Women and children took the seats. “So. Where are you headed?”
║♛║—
❝ – —i know what a cigarette looks like." He's much more bemused than annoyed at the man's warnings, after all-----he's an aficionado in the art himself.❝--------and hey, I also know what happens when addicted people lose their habit--- not a pretty sight.❞ The wheels roll;----- soon the trolley is driving the busy, colorful streets of Tokyo. Jason stares silently out the window at the scene----watching as the academy disappears behind Japan's quiet countryside. Tokyo. The city he'd been born in---lived in-- 'til cursed day he was sold as mere slave scum. Every day he is at risk of being discovered by the few Elite who dare cross the borders between Tanagura and Tokyo. He's jerked back to reality at the man's question. Dark eyes averting,he leans into the trolley bench and lets out a long, silent sigh. ❝ – —anywhere that's not here is good enough for me.❞
