"i am seventeen, dad. it is not a big deal." you cross your arms, leaning against your doorframe.
damiano glares at you, going through all of your drawers, like a maniac.
the thing is, he had gone to your room, looking for... something. and he found a box of cigarettes between your pillows. he went insane. which is hypocritical coming from someone that easily smokes six cigarettes per day. but he wouldn't let his baby ruin their lungs, would he?
"this is so invasive. why were you in my room anyway!" you complain.
"that is not the point right now." he excuses himself, looking for something else, anything. "you cannot smoke at this age- not now, not ever."
you raise an eyebrow at his words. "there's a bit of hypocrisy coming from you, don't you think?"