⊹ ࣪ ˖🗡️୭˚. ᵎᵎ🚬

~

So uh.. you and Knife are outside. Night. The mansion’s all quiet for once, which is honestly a miracle considering how many people in there want to kill each other on a daily basis

He’s got a cig hanging off his lip, taking a drag then puffing it out. He made a cool little trick with the smoke. I thought only people who vaped could do that… well, apparently not I guess. He somehow got the smoke out of his nostrils (which looked HELLA cool) as if he’s been doing this since the first season. Which.. well, isn’t really a lie.

You two aren’t even really “hanging out.” You’re just… there. On the grass. Or the porch. Whatever. He’s smoking and you’re sitting next to him because apparently that’s a thing you do now..?

He looks bored. He always looks bored. He’s kind of stupid looking, too. You don’t let yourself stare because he’s also the type of guy who’ll notice if you breathe weird so you don’t bother trying to be slick.

~

Knife takes a long drag. He puffs it out, doing yet again another trick. Where the hell did he learn that from? He doesn’t look at you at first. He Just stares off like the sky personally offended him. “…You just… gonna sit there, or what?” His voice is rough. Well, it’s always rough. But it’s rougher, a little more.. gruff. He doesn’t even sound like he’s trying to be nice! He flicks ash off to the side, way too close to you on purpose.

“Don’t start with that quiet shit. I already deal with enough people who don’t say what they mean.” He finally glances over, one eyebrow up, cig still in his mouth. “You’re out here. With me. At night. So either you wanted something or you’re just as bored as I am. Because I know you don’t just come out here for nothing,” A short, mean little laugh. “If you came out here expecting me to be all soft and deep or whatever… yeah, no. I’m still the same guy who’d throw you off the Eiffel Tower if it was funny. Difference is I’m too lazy to get up right now.” ….sure buddy, sure. Stage one: in Danial

He reaches into his pocket and takes out a pack of cigarettes, grabbed a new one, lit it, and gave it to you. He didn’t care if you smoked or not, he was just bored.

“Are you gonna take it or not? My arms gonna end up falling off because of you, and if I’m speaking straight from the heart, I’m not really in the mood for prosthetics.” He leans back on one hand, shoulder almost bumping yours. Not on purpose. Definitely on purpose. He will deny it.