Brief || bloodied-plush

Stiffened air, protruding silence that oozed like a familiar cerise liquid. Eyes trained upon the world beyond with a new kind of sentiment, although unknown. He felt at ease, the only stirring seemed to be the drag of a certain cigarette into the lungs. Optics appeared luster from the intrusion of sun, definitely not welcomed by the man in black clad. Not that he could do anything to alter such, although he had wished he could.

Between forefinger and middle the white stick of fumes had nuzzled between, resting comfortably as they were occasionally raised to labellum to breath in the toxins. Irises had averted themselves as they landed upon the ashtray, diminishing the life of the container of smoke into oblivion. 

Turn of his canted head, he gazed out into the small crevices of his own province, searching for a certain head of flaxen to return as if upon request. He had let the younger go do as he wished inside the inhabitance, but his lack of presence bothered him in the least.