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?

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