bound for flames
#12
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     He felt the alcohol going to his head, though it would take far more to get him completely smashed. The alcoholic he was, and had been, had created a tolerance. He knew this, and he knew better then to do what he was doing, but addicts are fragile. Lazily, he focused his attention on her, and shrugged again. “I don’t think its evolution,” he offered, electing to take a seat atop the bar instead of the stool. “Mutation, maybe. Something went wrong with our brains and we wound up like this.”

     Laughing lightly and shaking his head again, his addicts hands found the tobacco in his pouch and produced the case he had stolen and taken to using. “I do think we’re following them,” he said between his teeth, lighting a cigarette. “In some way,” he exhaled. “Stealing what they had, making it ours. I don’t know. Maybe we’re just looking for ways to destroy ourselves.”






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