Sorry, slow...
She was listening, he knew, but even under the dominance of marijuana, Razekiel recognized how empty his words were to her. Perhaps it was that she knew nothing of happiness or beauty at all, as if those things--those words--had no meaning inside her fragile little mind. What had happened to her that stole away such innocence? When he said those words, what were the things that she pictured in her mind? She was an angel in his eyes and nothing less, nothing more; Razekiel knew hardly enough about Halo to base such a decision, and yet this was perfectly normal to he. No, he wasn't her father, and nor was he there to lecture her or try to change her life. But damn, did she look so miserable, each time he saw her. How could one live in such a way? For many of the faces he'd come to know both fleeting and not, those that had shared in his drugs with him had done so to escape the real world and its pressures, to escape the type of misery Halo held on her face at all times. He didn't judge her for not turning in the same direction as others, to find an escape. He judged only the fact that she seemed incapable of smiling, and that he himself could never have lived that way.
"What is beautiful to you, angel-girl?" he said, straw eyes gazing into the furthest depths of the sky. A smile still held his face, though the prince felt his heart twist in the presence of such... nothingness. Her eyes were empty, though a dim fire glowed behind them. That was all the life he had seen in his niece so far. Briefly, just briefly, he remembered the "dead girl" Lolita. Perhaps she and Halo might have gotten along well. ...Or perhaps not, since Lolita had been damn stolid about his wandering near Dahlia and Halo's loyalty to Inferni. Best leave that at rest, then. "What we find beautiful is what makes us happy, says this poor man. For me, it is the world around us... The birds in the trees, the cold wind over the ocean, the first sign of life in springtime. I don't live a very happy life, man, but I make the best of it." He didn't speak much of the darker things in his head to common people. A concluding puff on his joint finalized that.
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