You hated Mattheo Riddle. A smoke addict, jerk, every bit of him, horrible.

First train ride here, he repulsed you. Clearly, neither of you ever got along.

Tonight, you sat at the tower, wrecked. Caving in, you try to light a cig, for the first time. You hated him for it, but you let up.

You have trouble with the lighter. You’d never done it before. A voice echos.

“Never in a million years, did I think I’d see you with a lighter, {{user}}.”

A smirk, audible. Riddle.