[ Ryusuke told him not to smoke in his place. Taira is usually a pretty decent house guest - he doesn't leave his shit everywhere, he doesn't bum (all) of his drinks. He leaves the mags folded neatly on the shelves he got them from. He minds Ryusuke's guitars, because without his guitars Ryusuke is a vague echo of himself and with them he's a natural high. Egotistical, humble, quiet, and loud. Taira's seen it all, so Taira is a good house guest.
Ryusuke told him not to smoke in the house but today Ryusuke can shove it. In the fondest way possible.
It's snowing outside, and it's bitter cold. All around the fishing shack, the piles of flurries are quickly accumulating in the dirt, spilling over onto the concrete slab that serves as its foundation. Clouds roll heavily overhead, backlit a dim gray by the evening sun. Taira had been sent home because of road closures, and just beat the storm when he arrived at Ryusuke's for practice.
Seeing as he's the only one here, he can take a wild guess that the rest of the guys weren't so lucky. Outside, he can hear Ryusuke's colorful deluge of English cursing. A smile forms at one corner of his mouth, cigarette poised at the juncture of his bottom lip. He flips the page of his magazine and waits for Ryusuke to return from checking on his fish. There's a space heater going in the corner, hazing up the room with warmth and smoke. Still, the walls are thin, and Taira glances towards the door. ]
It looks like shit out there.
[ He reaches for his cigarette, pulling it from his mouth after a short drag. He shrugs carelessly, tapping the ash into an empty can nearby. ]
( SOUNDPROOF ) ryusuke/taira, "when it storms" req.
Ryusuke told him not to smoke in the house but today Ryusuke can shove it. In the fondest way possible.
It's snowing outside, and it's bitter cold. All around the fishing shack, the piles of flurries are quickly accumulating in the dirt, spilling over onto the concrete slab that serves as its foundation. Clouds roll heavily overhead, backlit a dim gray by the evening sun. Taira had been sent home because of road closures, and just beat the storm when he arrived at Ryusuke's for practice.
Seeing as he's the only one here, he can take a wild guess that the rest of the guys weren't so lucky. Outside, he can hear Ryusuke's colorful deluge of English cursing. A smile forms at one corner of his mouth, cigarette poised at the juncture of his bottom lip. He flips the page of his magazine and waits for Ryusuke to return from checking on his fish. There's a space heater going in the corner, hazing up the room with warmth and smoke. Still, the walls are thin, and Taira glances towards the door. ]
It looks like shit out there.
[ He reaches for his cigarette, pulling it from his mouth after a short drag. He shrugs carelessly, tapping the ash into an empty can nearby. ]
Well, then again. It looks like shit in here too.