บท 896: The Man In The Suit

Dave took something out of his suit pocket, pausing once, throwing Michael a single raised brow.

"You smoke?"

As with most questions, and most indulgences, Michael eyed the glossy sheen of a small silver case in the stranger's hand, and simply shook his head curtly.

Dave unlatched the case, pulling out two cigarette sticks, one of which he tucked between his lips while the other, after another brief moment's pause, he extended out forward. 

"You look like you should." 

Matt smoked almost as much as he drank wherever he could, and as generous as he was indulgent, he'd often offer Michael a spare to share, nudging him, goading him, and blowing out a thick cloud of disappointment when he was ultimately turned down. 

And Michael always turned the offer down. He had no interest, no desire, if anything, it just seemed like a mere distraction, and at worse, a hindrance… especially in Matt's case.