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