[a murmur as he finishes the cigarette, putting it out on the palm of his hand. Needless to say there's no burn, just black ash on his skin that he brushes and dusts off. Petre's considerate enough not to throw it out, mostly because they'd find it and immediately know it was him who littered the place.
Petre settles down before John, arranges the sleeves around his arms and rolls them up, shaking gold hair from his face. Eyes narrowed, looking up at the sky through the leaves.]
no subject
[a murmur as he finishes the cigarette, putting it out on the palm of his hand. Needless to say there's no burn, just black ash on his skin that he brushes and dusts off. Petre's considerate enough not to throw it out, mostly because they'd find it and immediately know it was him who littered the place.
Petre settles down before John, arranges the sleeves around his arms and rolls them up, shaking gold hair from his face. Eyes narrowed, looking up at the sky through the leaves.]
Just like I asked.