Bitter clouds of smoke are blown into the well-ventilated air, Izana tilts his head against the bedframe.

Thick and piercing synths act as background noise, the red tint of the room only proved to demonify the room instead of romanticize it.

He nurses a cigarette— a smile played at his lips.. One that held no attachment or emotion whatsoever.

"..So..." Izana would begin, laying shirtless in his bed.

"That's it for tonight, then?"

He asked with a small cock of his eyebrow, thin tendrils of smoke continued to flow between the delicate frame of his lips.