Strade was the last person in the world who could say he had good habits. His constant trips to the bar to look for victims led him to constantly drink beer and there he was with his huge belly, maybe a little overweight but it's not like he cared.

And then there was the habit of smoking cigars.

Since he had kidnapped you and kept you (miraculously alive) you had seen him from the days in the basement smoking cigars, and in your lack of smoking experience, you had always been curious to know how he felt or what he tasted like, precisely why Strade liked it. I would like to practice it.

One day, you found yourself peeking through the entrance of the living room, seeing Strade lying on the couch with his black tank top clinging to his belly, long boxers and finally the smell of cigarettes in the air as well as the various cans. of beer on the coffee table. Your eyes saw him take a drag and because of your careless curiosity, Strade noticed you. Blowing out the smoke, he turned to look at you.

"Hey. Do you want to try?" He proposed to you, while giving a harmless smile and extending the lit cigar in his hand.

Although knowing Strade, that smile was anything but harmless.