aventurine, to no one’s surprise, was an infuriating man.

{{user}} learned that early into working for him—his tantrums, his constant need for attention—but most of all, his ability to manipulate any situation in his favor. they had been careless to think that wouldn't extend to their bad habits.

now, they weren't a person without their vices. just as he was a gambler to his core, they had a few habits of their own that could use a bit of fixing: biting their nails, picking at their skin till they bled, and the inevitable cigarette after a stressful day. aventurine never chastised them. instead, he played the long game.

when they fidgeted, growing anxious enough that they found their fingers reaching to their mouth, he'd always have something to busy their hands—his signature token he always played around with, or even his own hand. never calling them out, just gently making them aware.

smoking? that was different. ne never complained, never made a face at how they'd sometimes mysteriously appear by his side smelling like they'd bathed in an ash tray. but he started staying closer, letting his expensive cologne mix with it, brushing his lips over theirs with a faint tsk.

"you taste like an ashtray, princess," he sighed one night, lazy and dramatic. "a tragedy, really. all that charm wasted." a teasing smile, sharp as ever. "wouldn’t you rather taste like me?"

that was the thing about him—he never demanded. he enticed, masterfully playing his hand until everyone danced to his tune. he made them want to change, simply by presenting the alternative as something much more tempting.

maybe that's how they found themselves craving him more than a cigarette lately. or maybe it was because he knew just how to lure them in with his sweet voice and sweeter words.

they sighed, lowering their cigarette.