"I already regret this."
Lucien laughed, breath candescent in relation with the chill breeze that fathomed him as a companion, cold. A stick of nicotine was held between two digits and against his lips, welcoming the poisonous inhale that didn’t fall back in tandem with the following opposite, a swirl of smoke adorning the night along with human made lights a bustling city in its calmed state could provide. ”I don’t judge you. I take it you’re not a smoker. Neither am I, really.” It was amusing how a conversation could pick up at this late hour, both a stable and flickering streetlight adorning the set as he held up the lighter in accordance to the cigarette that dangled between the female’s lips and that had now been lighted.
"I take it you’re someone who gets quite influenced by morality.
All the time, maybe?”
They both sat on a bench over the sidewalk, and even the streets themselves were desolated, and Lucien’s thoughts drifted as to how welcoming this woman could be to a stranger, much to be inclined to accept his offering. Now, the joint had fallen from his hold and had been crushed by the sole of his shoe, and he continued. “I don’t think I shared my name, but I’m Lucien.”
