She tried to explain the effects of the herb as she offered him the smouldering joint, something he took between his fingers without much thought. Inhaling the smoke was easy enough — he'd participated in recreational use of drugs like this before, though he'd admit first that it'd been a while. Red eyes focused lazily on the white-coat of his ex-lover, watching as she returned to the bed at his side and leaned toward him. One muscular arm reached out to draw her closer, fingers brushing along the braided locks of her hair as he turned over the idea that she was somehow suffering. "Maybe you need someone to sleep with; sometimes it helps." Actual sleep, though he didn't specify that with his words.
He frowned upon hearing she felt any less than beautiful, and it overshadowed the compliment she gave him in return. He could remember the women — oh, so many women and even men — who'd fawned over and wanted and obsessed themselves with him, a status built from power in his place beneath the Tribunal members. Still, with so many possible lovers, he'd singled out Naniko before them all, originally for a beauty he had seen in her that didn't present itself in others. "It doesn't matter how you feel, Naniko — you're still beautiful." It was truth as he saw it, even in her state of change. He waved the hand that'd found itself on the other side of the pregnant Angela in a dismissive motion as he drug on the smoking plant again. "Better is in the eyes of the beholder. I liked it there." His voice turned stoney as he spoke, mind wandering back to the face of the dead. Cinder. He had blamed her along with the others. She had ruined everything that kept his life cemented.
His mood fading fast, he turned his face away from the woman and gazed absently at the ground before him. "I'll stay here as long as you need me to." Only for her — he could care less if the pack around them burned to the ground.
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