<strong>Name: </strong>Jack Harth<br/><strong>Time: </strong>About eight months ago<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Elena<br/><br/>She wasn't the only one that heard the clatter. With a lack of background noise, and a good set of ears, he picked it up easily; and his sharp, quick moving eyes locked firmly on the object before she could fully get rid of it.<strong>"I take it you don't smoke tobacco in that?"</strong>His words, like they often were, seemed oddly detached. He did not seem to be upset with her, or passing judgment on her; he seemed to somehow be entirely unbiased and removed from all feelings on the matter. Of course, that might not be the case; appearances can be deceiving. But, who's to say what's what, right now?<br/><br/><strong>"Don't apologize. You might be a bit of trouble, but I did invite you back, fully knowing that something might happen. To turn you away when you need help wouldn't be very compassionate, would it? But if you want to leave, you are free to. I can't force my help on you. All I can do is leave it open for you to take."</strong>If she was doing what she wanted, even if he took offense to it, if she wasn't harming another, he had no right to step in and force the issue. She was free to do with her life what she wished to; and yet, he would not condemn her for her actions, either way.<br/><br/>He finished gathering the glass shards, and carefully carried them over to the trash bin and placed them inside. Then, he went to wash his hands; he left the warm water running for her, figuring she'd probably want to wash up, too, if she hadn't taken the time to run off.