Mary
It was cloudy tonight. Sergio notices it as he walks *Up* The side of the compound. Guess the stars weren't listening tonight. That's fine.

He makes it past the third floor, flicking the bottom of a box with his middle finger. It's been a few nights. He never liked smoking as he played. The nicotine kept him stuck in a loop of wanting another, that doesn't work with getting into *That* Flow. The figurative and even sometimes, literal, weightlessness he felt as just plays notes, improvising and figuring out what sounds right on the spot. Having something nagging him and pulling him from the song wasn't ideal.

He finally steps onto the ledge of the rooftop, shifting back into earths decision of gravity. He's begun to get used to the sensation of that. 
It was like being having your body shift back from a elevator raising or lowering into its next floor, but as you were walking.
Like missing a step and falling forward without the fall ever happening.
He was just glad it was still working, especially after the weird pressing down of his power in that void.

He looks around, the rooftop was cleared out tonight. 
He finally flips the paper box open, and counts out the death sticks that remained. 10 left before a restock. Not bad.

He pulls one of the tobacco packed sticks out of the box. Settling it on his lips he fishes out a small bic lighter, hot pink in color, from his pocket of his winter coat and fights the wind trying to snuff out the flame, like the cold was trying to save his lungs once again.
Peggy
Footsteps echoed into the empty night sky from somewhere behind Sergio— it takes a brief moment for them to make their presence known before Gabe gives Sergio a heavy clap on the back, plopping himself down by the other. He'd snicker a bit at taking the other by surprise like this, if Sergio wasn't already having a shitty day, and Gabe had the energy to put his usual air of self-centeredness on. 

"Looks like we had the same idea, then. " Gabe says, voice low and tinted Southern as he fishes out his vape from his pocket. The cartridge he was currently sucking down was the one Sergio gave him, in fact— a sweet mango that rolled into his lungs like sweets he'd long since forsaken. 

Gabe takes a look at the lighter. "Hot pink?" He asks, looking at the thing curiously. "Can I ask why that color, or do you just prefer the Barbie aesthetic when giving yourself lung cancer?"
Mary
Sergio couldn't hear the steps that followed his, the clicking of the lighter taking up the noise for him. As a hefty clap meets his back, he jumps in his own skin. He's on edge. He pops the cigarette from his mouth back in between two of his fingers and turns to face the dastardly back-slapper.

Oh, its just Gabe.
"Yeah. 'Spose so." He shrugs.
Sergio settles the cigarette back into his mouth, and finally gets enough of a light from the mini lighter. He settles it back into the mysterious void that is a winter jacket's pocket. Only to be found again when truly needed.

Sergio looks up to Gabe, chuckling at his question.
"It was the first one I saw at the convenience store, and I needed a new one. Color makes it easier to find when I leave it out."
He puffs out smoke away from Gabe.
"Or I just like it to be in touch with my femininity. Your choice on that."

He remembers the Zippo one of his friends handed him when they quit smoking. He wishes he knew where it went when he got brought here.
Peggy
At Sergio's jump at the surprise clap, Gabe snickers to himself. He quite liked Sergio, but there was nothing quite like laughing at someone else's expense. 

"Maybe you should express that feminine side more often. You'd look good in lipstick, you know?" At that, Gabe leans in, looking dramatically up and down at Sergio before pulling away with a laugh. 

"Kidding. Well, partly. Still, maybe trying on some pink and purples might do your style some good." Another puff of mango fills Gabe's lungs, and he exhales the smoke into the starry night sky. 

"Hey, you wanna switch?" Gabe offers his vape to Sergio, dangling the smooth stick in front of his face. 

"I've never tried that brand of cigarettes. Plus, maybe the mango will cancel out your rank tobacco breath?"
Mary
Sergio chuckles, leaning back from the theater kid's faux move as he blows out another cloud of burnt tobacco towards the ground. 
Makeup was usually reserved for the full punk fit, he never really minded his own masculinity, he just thought throwing the *"Normal folks"* Through a loop was funny.
"I usually do eyeliner whenever I'm trying to scare the god-fearin' folks away. Maybe I'll add lipstick to that repertoire."

"I do like the color purple. I'll add it to the color list." He remarks. "It'll make me feel regal and shit, should be fun."

A skeptical tilt of an eyebrow meets Gabe's offer. "Listen if you wanna kiss that badly you don't gotta make it indirect like that. Just tell me."
He scoffs at the jab of his smoke laced breath. "I brush my teeth! It smells like Colgate *And* Rank tobacco, thank you."
Peggy
AUGHDUHFAUHFUGUH IF ROGTO

I respond after dinner

"Kiss you?" Gabe scoffs. "Please. I just heard cigarettes kill ya quicker than this does," He said, waggling the vape in his mouth, "And every actor's gotta go out in a blaze of glory." Gabe finished, chuckling. 

It wasn't something he'd normally say. After all, any ounce of self-doubt and depression were scolded out of him— what would his mother and Blanche think, if he were to talk so lowly of himself? He was raised better than to think such dark, unchristian thoughts. 

Still... They were fun to indulge in, especially with company in the middle of the night. He could only find a small, perverse sort of joy— Gabriel Trahan, who has worked his *Ass* Off to be attractive and smart and *Perfect* His whole life, sucking down a stick filled with the number one carcinogen in America. 

He had to laugh. 

"Now hand me the damn cigarette, *Dear*."
Mary
Sergio... Isn't paid enough to truly unpack all of *That.*
"Your loss, I've been told I'm a good kisser."
He plucks the damn cigarette from his mouth, spinning it in his fingers to face his smoking partner, filter-first.

A conflict crosses his mind and he holds out his hand. This was wholly familiar to the busker.
He remembers a conversation he had. Sergio was... 16? No. 15 at the time. He was trying to bum a cigarette from people at a DIY show, and this guy, around 20, had wrapped his arm around Sergios head. The guy told him, 'Listen here *Jackass.* Not a single one of us are gonna give you a cigarette tonight, or the next show we see you at.' He had continued as Sergio pulls himself out of this guy's grip. 
'You still have your lungs kid. If you wanna ruin them, then scream. Shout the lyrics to the next song that plays. You'd get the same rush.' He blew smoke in Sergio's face as he tried making some form of retort. The punk continued. 'If I ever see you with one of these in your mouth, I'll kick your ass, and then I'll find the person who gave it to you and kick their ass. And if I see you ever start someone on this shit? I'll break your hand.'

Sergio pulls his hand back before Gabe could take the cigarette.
"Actually, I think I accidentally drooled on this one. Filter looks soaked, sorry bud." He flips it back around, settling it back into his mouth. "Maybe next death stick."

Sergio hadn't seen him for a bit before he got sent to the Cradle. He wondered if he's still kicking around.
Peggy
"You're the expert." Gabe said, leaning away from Sergio to flop on his back and face the stars. 

*I hope Blanche is looking at the same ones..* His heart aches, and Gabe's eyes trace the imaginary constellation lines before he jumps back up, once again. 

He's moping. He's moping, and he *Knows it*, and Gabe feels sick to his stomach. Familiar voices whisper in the corners of his mind— a deep, harsh one that mimics the cadence of his father but darker, more sinister and angry and most certainly drunk. He's *Showing weakness.* He's *Bitching.* What is he, expecting someone to come in and solve his problems? Solve them for yourself, boy. 

"We should get goin'." Gabe says with a grunt as he cranes his head towards the door. "When I said I was gonna keep you all night, I didn't mean like *This*." He punctuates his shitty joke with a waggle of his eyebrows, and a wink for good measure. 

A good clean-up of his prior hesitation, he'd like to admit.
Mary
Sergio rolls the cigarette to the corner of his mouth, shrugging. "I Hope I am the only expert on tobacco you know."

Gabe has a moment of silence, Sergio looks down towards him. He's trying to study the kid. How is it that he can have such a melancholic side of himself? The way he shows himself online make him... Hard to read. It almost feels, uncharacteristic for him to look upset.

He reaches out to rest a hand on Gabe.

And immediately pulls back as the theater kid jumps back up.

Perhaps tonight isn't the night to question what goes on in Gabriel Trahan's head. Maybe there won't be a good time. Sergio would just have to decide when it the time comes.

"Oh? Is that so?" He says with a slight chuckle.
Sergio stands with a dad grunt, his body was sore, but his mind was still awake. Probably due to the nicotine.

Before he follows Gabe, he lifts his leg, snuffing out the end of his cigarette with the bottom of his boot. The tiny embers that were left on the end quickly disappear without its comrades in burning.
"What do you have in mind, then?"