Ronan Nolan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
not_in_the_book) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomhighdorms2008-07-17 09:20 pm
not_in_the_book) wrote in fandomhighdorms2008-07-17 09:20 pm
Entry tags:
The Roof [of Smoking], Thursday Evening
It was strange being back in Fandom, even after almost two weeks since his return. He'd not been getting out much, really, so it felt good to get up to the roof.
He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, the first pack he'd bought in the past... Well, quite a long time. He usually didn't smoke alone, but something about the night just begged for one. So he opened the pack, slicing open the plastic cover with a fingernail (he really needed to get those cut), and tapped out one cigarette.
The spell to light it was easy enough -- calling heat was almost rudimentary, and, really, took almost less energy than pulling out a lighter, or striking a match. Breathing in, he let the smoke fill his lungs, and then released it with a sigh.
[Open like a roof, for anyone who'd have any reason to be up here! :D ]
He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, the first pack he'd bought in the past... Well, quite a long time. He usually didn't smoke alone, but something about the night just begged for one. So he opened the pack, slicing open the plastic cover with a fingernail (he really needed to get those cut), and tapped out one cigarette.
The spell to light it was easy enough -- calling heat was almost rudimentary, and, really, took almost less energy than pulling out a lighter, or striking a match. Breathing in, he let the smoke fill his lungs, and then released it with a sigh.
[Open like a roof, for anyone who'd have any reason to be up here! :D ]
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"Yeah," she spoke up finally, still fiddling with a perfectly unencumbered lock of hair. Probably best not to mention the fact that the only reason she kept tabs on her family back in Houston at all was to know when her stepfather finally croaked, so she could -- well, she hadn't quite refined that plan yet, but the poem (http://www.strangersinparadise.com/lyrics/thismaskiwear.html) from sophomore English class was, in fact, not really hyperbole. "Guess I'm heading in now, though. Class tomorrow, all that, so . . ."