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Description
Ah.
Much better
Jack took a long drag on the cigarette and hummed contentedly as he felt the smoke pour into his mouth. Little grey ribbons escaped through gaps in teeth and through his nose.
Rawr Jack thought as he savoured the taste of nicotine. He remembered as a kid, when it was cold, when he played Dragons. He would hold his breath, wait a while then blow it through his nose, making "smoke" with the heated air. He would accompany this with growling, stomping and chasing "fair maidens" with his hands curled in claws, the fair maiden being Grandmama, shrieking satisfyingly with her thin lips in a dramatic "O" and her eyes so wide.
Jack snorted through his nose, blowing out puffs of smoke into the still autumn air and smiled bitterly.
Don't need the cold anymore.
He leaned back against the brick wall and kicked one foot over the other. He could feel the cold solidness of the brick through his jumper. A small voice decided to mention that the wall would not do his woolen jumper any good, could nick it, pull out the stitching. That same voice had been the one objecting shrilly when he had sneaked the fag out of Ali's purse.
She's done so much for you, it said, why are you doing this to her when she's done so much for us -
It had shut up when he took the first drag. Jack had chuckled dryly at that.
He puffed out the rest of the smoke between his teeth in a stream that soon began to float upwards, up and out, and then disapeared.
He watched it for a while, watching the smoke rise up from the slowly, but surely, dying butt in pale columns. That was what he liked best. The taste was pretty fine, though it
sometimes stuck to his tounge and stained his fingers and he had to be careful not to be caught. Ali would brain him if she did but it was worth it for the quietness and the columns.

"Pretty."
Jack jumped out of his skin, almost tripping and scraping his black shoes against the wall as he struggled to stand up straight. He was about to stub the ciggie out on the wall behind him, discreetly mind you, when he realised the speaker wasn't berating him for being outside alone or even adult size.
The speaker has simply sat on the floor beside him, crosslegged in her new white nightie and borrowed wellies.
Anouk.
He was surprised she had escaped. He had heard Ali proposing, quite loudly, to give Anouk a bath. Jack had thought this stupid, saying it only gave the purposee a warning to leggit and hide. Many did, and Jack had noted these as grand escape attempts. The longest record for Avoiding Bath Time had been 2 hours 27 minutes and set by James Crenich, a kid with autism who had been clever enough to stuff pillows under his quilt to create a diversion.
Jack had expected Anouk to have a good attempt at this, perhaps even break the record, considering her penchant for dirt and also her talent at Hide and Seek (Jack hadn't found her once. Dolly had, but Jack thought Anouk had given her a helping hand there) but Jack had
heard no Ali Exasperations or calling or begging for her to please come out of the attic (Creniches last hiding place).
She had gone quietly.
Not like he thought she would.
Jack relaxed back against the wall, replacing his feet and took another drag. Out of the corner of one eye, he saw Anouk's dark ones rolling like marbles, following each fold of
smoke, up and out until it was gone. She was rapt, not caring that the dirt and damp were seeping into the seat of her nightie. Jack winced a little. Ali would have her head. Jack also noticed that the wellies on her feet were his. Another item of his clothing lost.
He snorted again and Anouk watched the small puffs of smoke join the folds like children's oversized periods.
There was silence for a while, only interrupted by exhales and inhales of nicotine.
Anouk broke it.
"Pop smoked."
Jack choked a little and he muffled it with a hand, the smoke seeping through his fingers. Anouk carried on.
" Not proper cigarettes like yours, ones you make yourself, with the papers and things." She bowed her head and tapped her small fingers on the concrete, making a rolling noise.
Thinking.
"Rollies!" she smiled and went to snap her fingers, then remembered she couldn't and frowned at the offending digits before looking up at him. " Rollies he called them and they took ages to make, I remember especially after. . . after christmas."
She was going to say something else, Jack thought as he rolled the ciggie between two fingers, I know it.
" I used to watch him do it, watch him roll, I liked it. I liked how his face went, all concentrated and how he would look over his glasses to see he was doing it right, which was
silly, cause what are glasses for if not for seeing if you're doing something right?"
Her hand absentmindedly reached for her neck, tapping lightly against the veins there. Jack realised her strange necklace was missing. He briefly wondered where it was. She answered him.
"Ali has it." She spoke almost gravely. "She said she would give it back after the bath, it would ruin if I kept it on and I would hate that. Really. I would. It's whats left of his glasses."
Her voice was blank, it always went that way when she talked about Pop, especially so when she treaded the thin line over which was Pop's death. She never crossed it. She never would. Things are better left unsaid sometimes, Ali would say. Jack agreed.
Jack allowed himself to slide down the wall, ignoring the tiny sounds of scraping and ripping as he went. He squatted beside her. He would sacrifice the jumper but he would not get dirty, not if he could help it. That was as far as he went.
He leaned subtly towards her, indicating his interest, to get her to carry on. She took his gesture further and leant a scrubbed cheek on his shoulder. Her hair had been tied up, quite tightly, in a french plait along her head but white hair still escaped and lay along his shoulder too.

"He made them, specially. No one else has glasses like his. He made them, he's so clever my Pop, he researched glassmaking and lots of other things to make them just right." She giggled. "Like the three bears! "and the baby bear's porridge was just right!" Like the story. It took him a long time, at least two New Years went by before he showed me them. Imagine that Jack, two! It must have been so hard but my Pop is clever." She nodded firmly.
"They are beautiful too, beautiful, beautiful. And they work ." She nodded again, a satisfied nod. She was proud of her Pop. "He made them for me and for him, so he could. . . he could. . ."
She stopped mid-nod.
"I can't remember what he could." she said with a sad wonderment. "And I can't remember how they broke." She turned to him, her eyes horrified. "It wasn't me was it? Did I break them? Before I came? That's awful Jack. I'd hate it if it was me Jack. I dohope it wasn't."
She turned her head and buried it in his jumper.
She didn't cry.
He didn't move away.
He stubbed out his ciggie on the wall and deftly threw it towards the pile of twisted fag ends by the staff's entrance.
He let out his last breath of smoke over one shoulder, out of the girls face and leant his cheek on her head.
It tickled a little but he didn't move.
They stayed like that a while, then Ali came out for her fag break, dropped said cigarette on the floor in surprise before ushering them both indoors, scolding as she did.
Did they wan't to catch a cold?

Description
Ah.
Much better
Jack took a long drag on the cigarette and hummed contentedly as he felt the smoke pour into his mouth. Little grey ribbons escaped through gaps in teeth and through his nose.
Rawr Jack thought as he savoured the taste of nicotine. He remembered as a kid, when it was cold, when he played Dragons. He would hold his breath, wait a while then blow it through his nose, making "smoke" with the heated air. He would accompany this with growling, stomping and chasing "fair maidens" with his hands curled in claws, the fair maiden being Grandmama, shrieking satisfyingly with her thin lips in a dramatic "O" and her eyes so wide.
Jack snorted through his nose, blowing out puffs of smoke into the still autumn air and smiled bitterly.
Don't need the cold anymore.
He leaned back against the brick wall and kicked one foot over the other. He could feel the cold solidness of the brick through his jumper. A small voice decided to mention that the wall would not do his woolen jumper any good, could nick it, pull out the stitching. That same voice had been the one objecting shrilly when he had sneaked the fag out of Ali's purse.
She's done so much for you, it said, why are you doing this to her when she's done so much for us -
It had shut up when he took the first drag. Jack had chuckled dryly at that.
He puffed out the rest of the smoke between his teeth in a stream that soon began to float upwards, up and out, and then disapeared.
He watched it for a while, watching the smoke rise up from the slowly, but surely, dying butt in pale columns. That was what he liked best. The taste was pretty fine, though it
sometimes stuck to his tounge and stained his fingers and he had to be careful not to be caught. Ali would brain him if she did but it was worth it for the quietness and the columns.

"Pretty."
Jack jumped out of his skin, almost tripping and scraping his black shoes against the wall as he struggled to stand up straight. He was about to stub the ciggie out on the wall behind him, discreetly mind you, when he realised the speaker wasn't berating him for being outside alone or even adult size.
The speaker has simply sat on the floor beside him, crosslegged in her new white nightie and borrowed wellies.
Anouk.
He was surprised she had escaped. He had heard Ali proposing, quite loudly, to give Anouk a bath. Jack had thought this stupid, saying it only gave the purposee a warning to leggit and hide. Many did, and Jack had noted these as grand escape attempts. The longest record for Avoiding Bath Time had been 2 hours 27 minutes and set by James Crenich, a kid with autism who had been clever enough to stuff pillows under his quilt to create a diversion.
Jack had expected Anouk to have a good attempt at this, perhaps even break the record, considering her penchant for dirt and also her talent at Hide and Seek (Jack hadn't found her once. Dolly had, but Jack thought Anouk had given her a helping hand there) but Jack had
heard no Ali Exasperations or calling or begging for her to please come out of the attic (Creniches last hiding place).
She had gone quietly.
Not like he thought she would.
Jack relaxed back against the wall, replacing his feet and took another drag. Out of the corner of one eye, he saw Anouk's dark ones rolling like marbles, following each fold of
smoke, up and out until it was gone. She was rapt, not caring that the dirt and damp were seeping into the seat of her nightie. Jack winced a little. Ali would have her head. Jack also noticed that the wellies on her feet were his. Another item of his clothing lost.
He snorted again and Anouk watched the small puffs of smoke join the folds like children's oversized periods.
There was silence for a while, only interrupted by exhales and inhales of nicotine.
Anouk broke it.
"Pop smoked."
Jack choked a little and he muffled it with a hand, the smoke seeping through his fingers. Anouk carried on.
" Not proper cigarettes like yours, ones you make yourself, with the papers and things." She bowed her head and tapped her small fingers on the concrete, making a rolling noise.
Thinking.
"Rollies!" she smiled and went to snap her fingers, then remembered she couldn't and frowned at the offending digits before looking up at him. " Rollies he called them and they took ages to make, I remember especially after. . . after christmas."
She was going to say something else, Jack thought as he rolled the ciggie between two fingers, I know it.
" I used to watch him do it, watch him roll, I liked it. I liked how his face went, all concentrated and how he would look over his glasses to see he was doing it right, which was
silly, cause what are glasses for if not for seeing if you're doing something right?"
Her hand absentmindedly reached for her neck, tapping lightly against the veins there. Jack realised her strange necklace was missing. He briefly wondered where it was. She answered him.
"Ali has it." She spoke almost gravely. "She said she would give it back after the bath, it would ruin if I kept it on and I would hate that. Really. I would. It's whats left of his glasses."
Her voice was blank, it always went that way when she talked about Pop, especially so when she treaded the thin line over which was Pop's death. She never crossed it. She never would. Things are better left unsaid sometimes, Ali would say. Jack agreed.
Jack allowed himself to slide down the wall, ignoring the tiny sounds of scraping and ripping as he went. He squatted beside her. He would sacrifice the jumper but he would not get dirty, not if he could help it. That was as far as he went.
He leaned subtly towards her, indicating his interest, to get her to carry on. She took his gesture further and leant a scrubbed cheek on his shoulder. Her hair had been tied up, quite tightly, in a french plait along her head but white hair still escaped and lay along his shoulder too.

"He made them, specially. No one else has glasses like his. He made them, he's so clever my Pop, he researched glassmaking and lots of other things to make them just right." She giggled. "Like the three bears! "and the baby bear's porridge was just right!" Like the story. It took him a long time, at least two New Years went by before he showed me them. Imagine that Jack, two! It must have been so hard but my Pop is clever." She nodded firmly.
"They are beautiful too, beautiful, beautiful. And they work ." She nodded again, a satisfied nod. She was proud of her Pop. "He made them for me and for him, so he could. . . he could. . ."
She stopped mid-nod.
"I can't remember what he could." she said with a sad wonderment. "And I can't remember how they broke." She turned to him, her eyes horrified. "It wasn't me was it? Did I break them? Before I came? That's awful Jack. I'd hate it if it was me Jack. I dohope it wasn't."
She turned her head and buried it in his jumper.
She didn't cry.
He didn't move away.
He stubbed out his ciggie on the wall and deftly threw it towards the pile of twisted fag ends by the staff's entrance.
He let out his last breath of smoke over one shoulder, out of the girls face and leant his cheek on her head.
It tickled a little but he didn't move.
They stayed like that a while, then Ali came out for her fag break, dropped said cigarette on the floor in surprise before ushering them both indoors, scolding as she did.
Did they wan't to catch a cold?