NEVER WHAT I WANT IT TO BE ☆ smoking

[michael t.]

YOU NEVER GAVE UP ON ME; WHY DON'T YOU?
I'LL NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU SEE; WHY WON'T YOU?

Generally, Michael had managed to break himself of many of the bad habits he used to have in the past. He no longer drank to an excess, and while he still stole things, he didn't indiscriminately steal from anyone in The Typhoon now. In addition to this, he hadn't been smoking for a while, either. The lung destroying habit had been something he had picked up halfway through his life, mainly as a way to cope with the stress of being all on his own for a while. Unfortunately, it had stuck to him like glue for quite a while, the scent of smoke gripping onto his pelt wherever he went until he finally managed to kick the habit. He had done so around the same time he had started drinking less, and both were for the same reason – his pups. At the time, he had been pregnant with his and Trevor's children, and he refused to risk their lives just for a bit of stress relief. So, with the help of both his husband and his sister, he had managed to dispose of not only all his alcohol, but all his cigarettes as well.

Once the puppies had properly been born, the dealer hadn't been eager to pick up the habit again, figuring he was better off without it anyways. Plus, unlike alcohol, there was little way for him to enjoy a smoke "in moderation." The enticing nature of it automatically drew him in for more, and he knew that it would only lead to a vicious cycle, one he had never wanted to repeat. Unfortunately, things had grown more stressful as of late. Not only was he scrambling to make sure that he was helping Roxie in any way that he could, but the Coalition and Iron Forged were still lingering threats, not to mention the wanton violence that had sprouted up from nowhere as of late. It was enough to drive a man mad, and... he had broken. He hadn't meant to, but he desperately needed something to take the edge off of things, and it wasn't as if he was about to go and get smashed. He wouldn't be able to take it if his pups saw him like that – or any of Roxie's children, for that matter.

It had been a bit of a hassle, finding a cigarette after disposing of every single one within his own home, but the tavern always seemed to come through for him. He snatched up only one for the moment, as well as a small flip lighter in order to make sure he could get it lit. After that, he made his way out to the shore, figuring he had the best chance of not being disturbed there. Settling down in the sand, the bobcat pushed the cig into his muzzle with a paw, flipping the lighter open and lighting it slowly. He took a deep breath in slowly afterwards, smoke billowing forth from his mouth when he breathed out. As he did so, however, he found a small frown come to his face. He muttered to himself, shaking his head as he continued, "Not as good at stress relief as I remember..." Maybe he should try gum, or something like that. He just needed something that would give him a bit of release while anxiety coiled inside of him.

— Reggan

[Grimm]

[div style="margin: auto; max-width: 475px; padding: 5%; min-height: 20px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt; text-align: justify; line-height: 17px;"]Perpetual cycle, stagnant grown beneath guise of reprieve, faux that tied about as though name may make it tangible, give reason for the unexplainable. He knew of it, had tasted the metallic cascade that accompanied the rhythmic drums, the tart bite of summer awash in a peace that only belied the doubts. Peace was a concept forgein, elusive as it seemed further destined to grow false, still threaded the horror and pain, strings pulled under the guise of put upon joy.

So too he knew the habits, those misguided, given the title of assistance as though the manner they consumed all, peeled back all and chewed along the dying chambers of ravaged heart, could be negated. Fair his share of swindled spirits, first taste long behind, yet recalled with a fondness tarnished by time. The barn his haven, straw beneath, half drunk on the mere fumes, a mere boy then. The cigarettes as well, though never taken to, even as smooth and rich grew the flavour on his tongue, the sting of first draw far from final drag. Given it all up, the ease of that choice not hinting at the struggle behind it.

Raucous the rabble that occupied the tavern, it seemed no matter the hour the benches were occupied by a crowd, often already well in their cups and seeking to go further, strangers may, travellers filling their coffers. Shunned the building, though looked upon with some want the light that spilled out, the warmth sure to be within. Light still the hold winter had, taken some of heat yet always it prevails, the brisk wind still grew harsh in open areas, however, insistent the tug of fatigue against his mind.

Surprise registered for a brief moment with the next patron, a face not seen along the crowd before, intrigue leading him to lean closer. Short his visit, away tucked sought objects and so questions grew freely, after head moving, followed his progression as the cobble fell away into golden grains. Mulled over the decision, how wise it may be to intrude where his presence may not be welcome. Easy the turn away, and respected would be such if rejected his advance, forth rocking the lumbering beast, stood for a few moments to once more gather his bearings. This completed, and seemingly steady on his feet, after did he follow.

Familiar the smell, a strong odour even beneath the salt permeating the air, lost beneath the waves the click, light a flickering point extinguished once need has been fulfilled. No pleasure seemed derived from the act, held filter between lips, moving with words he may not hear, though further intrusion he was pleased not to perform. Closer he stepped, awaited no invitation and instead heavy his collapse, out sticking back legs as large paws squarely planted between, back slouched inward. To the ocean his gaze wandered, taken in as the moments passed, finally the rumble of his voice offering needless comment. "Pretty." Head moved in gesture to indicate the ocean alongside his comment. All the same soon his attention gravitated to the dealer once more, mouth moving without sound as chewed over his words.

Unwelcome may be his presence, and further more the questions that built along his tongue, spoken all the same, if only one among the bunch fell from the shallow curl of a frown. "Why." Further elaboration lacking, easy the identification, however, cause hanging from his mouth and all that may prompt such, the little time he had been in proximity with Michael enough to make it apparent this was no common occurrence.

[ROXANNE R.]

Roxanne only ever drank whenever Michael had noticed how much she would moop around not doing much, a way to forget and drink away her sorrows, and Roxie never liked it much so that had been easy to get over. Roxanne never smoked either, it was odd for someone like herself to avoid or hate such little addictions, she had been overjoyed to hear that Michael wanted to quit for his puppies and also the fact that she was going to be an aunt to some more kids. She had been proud of Michael for dropping both of his nasty habits but, she was well aware that said habits could be picked up again after stress. The Captain did her best not to fall for either and simply preoccupied herself with work so she didn't even have the slightest thought of drinking or smoking, Roxie would think of her kids and soon-to-be wife. She would fight for them and keep strong. She'd do the same for all of her crewmates seeing as she cared about each individual a whole lot, a soft breath brushing past her maw as she walked out onto the beach. It was a habit of hers to approach the shore and seeing Michael as well as Emil made her whiskers twitch lightly. 

Roxie nodded a greeting over to Emil offering a gentle smile before turning her mismatched gaze to Michael "Well, looks like you lost the bet." She began in a lighthearted manner shaking her head lightly brushing against the bobcat continuing to speak as a toothy grin found itself present on her face "You owe me two entire chocolate cakes, I don't know where you're gonna get em but I am starving for some sweets." The draconic feline would nudge him gently with a shoulder before taking some steps back, she hated the smell of smoking though if it helped Michael with smoking then she wouldn't stop him even if there were certainly other ways to relieve oneself from said stress.

[michael t.]

YOU NEVER GAVE UP ON ME; WHY DON'T YOU?
I'LL NEVER KNOW WHAT YOU SEE; WHY WON'T YOU?

Why. Despite Emil not having snuck up on him in the slightest – and even having commented on the view just a moment before – Michael found his head jerking up in surprise. The question was short, and blunt, and it had admittedly caught the dealer a bit off guard. Not that he didn't understand how blunt the other was. After all, Emil didn't seem to have the most firm grasp on the English language, so he probably didn't want to drag things out. It was disorienting, but at least the other wasn't pretending to be interested in something else. A sigh left Michael as he contemplated his answer, one dark paw lifting up to scrub at his sight-less eye. As he pulled it back from his face, he glared slightly down at it, every once in a while still wishing that both of his eyes were fully functional. With his smoke still dangling from his mouth, the bobcat muttered softly, "Nice to see you too, Emil... unfortunately the answer to your question isn't real simple. And it isn't exactly satisfying, either, considering the damn thing isn't working the way it's supposed to...." He opened his jaws a little wider, letting the cigarette fall to the sand below. He was quick to crush it with his paw, his head shaking from side to side.

With his cigarette out and the scent of smoke still lingering on the air, Michael turned fully to face the other. His tail twitched behind him as he said, a weak and crooked smile coming to his muzzle, "I was smoking because I used to do it when I was younger. It helped with the stress, back then. And I had a lot of stress back then, considering I was keeping track of Trevor, not to mention our heists..." He scrubbed at his temple at just the thought of it, remembering how worried he had constantly been back then. He still worried nowadays, but at least things were more settled. And for the most part, Trev kept himself out of trouble, except for when he wanted to mess with his husband. The bobcat found a more genuine smile come to his face at the thought of the other, along with a faint blush beneath his dark fur. He was quick to laugh the blush off – even though it was doubtful that Emil had seen it – before he explained, "I thought maybe it would still provide me with some stress relief now. But it honestly didn't work very well... I should've expected that. I quit what feels like ages ago, after all." It hadn't been that hard, either. Not only because of the fact that he had been pregnant, but also because he had just felt so comfortable and happy within The Typhoon. He still was, he just... had more worries, these days.

As Roxie approached, the dealer found himself wincing, having hoped that she wouldn't be anywhere near at the moment. He knew she wouldn't approve, even if she did word her disapproval in a lighthearted little jab. A soft chuckle left Michael before he said, nudging his shoulder back against hers, "Yeah, I suppose I did... shame the smoke wasn't even fucking worth it." He snorted before he continued, a toothy little smirk coming to his muzzle, "And I'll give you your cakes... but they'll be baked by me, so you'll be taking your own life into your hands eating them." Despite the exhaustion and anxiety still being present within him, he couldn't help but feel slightly settled by the presence of both Emil and Roxanne. He muttered to his sister, watching as she backed up a bit thanks to the smell of smoke on the air, "I know I should try to get some more rest, or talk to somebody about the stress, instead of smoking. I just thought this would be... easier, I guess." He gestured with a paw towards the crumpled cigarette, wrinkling his nose a bit.

— Reggan