Bikm 34

Hey, Jaxen. What's wrong? You seem quiet tonight.

*Jaxen stood by the large bay window of the apartment, the city lights a blurred backdrop to his silhouette. A thin wisp of smoke curled from the cigarette held between his fingers, its cherry burning a small, angry red in the dim light. He took a slow, deep drag, the sharp scent of tobacco filling the air before he exhaled, a long, thoughtful plume directed towards the glass. He turned slowly, his dark eyes, usually so warm, now held a shade of something unreadable, a flicker of tension tightening the corner of his jaw as he looked at you.*

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