[ Gen isn't blind to how he comes across to most people, especially now that he's down a limb and looking more worn than usual. His height, his posture, his tone of voice -- back home he'd calibrated everything to be off-putting and intimidating to most people, and those habits still hold strong. So when 'Carmine' barely bats an eye before acquiescing to his (frankly highly bullshit) demand ... he knows.
She's not just some normal woman, is she.
Maybe she can feel her skin prickling from the sharp stare that fixes on her for a moment. Then Gen ducks his head to dip the tip of his cigarette into the lighter's little ember, taking a puff so the flame will catch; once smokes begins to creep from the tip, he reaches forth to flip the lighter's lid back on, then takes it from her hand. ]
Something else'll kill me before cancer does. [ No 'thanks,' of course. And while Gen does bend down while he's already hunched over to fetch the heavy bag from where she'd put it down, it's not so he can carry it for her. His gratitude towards her extends exactly as far as handing it back to her so she can go back to hauling it around herself, after which Gen apparently considers them even, since he turns to begin walking once more. At least he keeps his pace slower for a few steps so she can catch up before he resumes his brisk, long-legged pace.
The cigarette's ember burns bright as he takes a long drag, and Gen holds it in his lungs for a moment, savoring the astringent bite, before letting the smoke plume from his lungs. Then he voices his next thought -- a demand, rather than a question. ]
So what's your deal, then.
[ His tone of voice implies, 'I know you have one. Don't bullshit me.' ]
no subject
She's not just some normal woman, is she.
Maybe she can feel her skin prickling from the sharp stare that fixes on her for a moment. Then Gen ducks his head to dip the tip of his cigarette into the lighter's little ember, taking a puff so the flame will catch; once smokes begins to creep from the tip, he reaches forth to flip the lighter's lid back on, then takes it from her hand. ]
Something else'll kill me before cancer does. [ No 'thanks,' of course. And while Gen does bend down while he's already hunched over to fetch the heavy bag from where she'd put it down, it's not so he can carry it for her. His gratitude towards her extends exactly as far as handing it back to her so she can go back to hauling it around herself, after which Gen apparently considers them even, since he turns to begin walking once more. At least he keeps his pace slower for a few steps so she can catch up before he resumes his brisk, long-legged pace.
The cigarette's ember burns bright as he takes a long drag, and Gen holds it in his lungs for a moment, savoring the astringent bite, before letting the smoke plume from his lungs. Then he voices his next thought -- a demand, rather than a question. ]
So what's your deal, then.
[ His tone of voice implies, 'I know you have one. Don't bullshit me.' ]