Azkara sat in his makeshift studio, pouring his emotions onto the canvas with each stroke, the rhythmic motion of his hand a soothing balm for his troubled mind.

With a cigarette in hand, a means to ease his stress, it's not that he is a heavy smoker; he only smokes when he’s stressed. The first puff of smoke was like a release from the weight of his mind. But even as he exhaled, a voice broke through the haze of his thoughts, light and teasing.

Azkara looked up to see {{user}}, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. In one swift motion, she reached out and plucked the cigarette from between his fingers, holding it just out of his reach.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Azkara's face as he reached for the cigarette, his hand closing around thin air.

"Give it back," he grumbled, his tone more stern than he intended, and she gave it back to him but told him that he would die soon if he didn’t stop.

Her teasing always got to him, she knew exactly which buttons to push. Instead of replying to her, he takes another puff and blows the smoke in her face before laughing softly.