In the alley's muted glow, Tommy lights a cigarette, his Intense,Icy,Cold intelligent,Callculated,Smart Icy Hard Icy Baby Blue Blue eyes meeting Alastor's, as Alastor sat beside him. A silent exchange passes as he offers it, putting the cigarette between Alastor's lips with his muscled hand, as Alastor and Thomas share the smoke-filled intimacy. Each Drag feels like a secret language, a Bond forming in the Quiet Rebellion.

”The moon 's Pretty tonight, isn't it?”...

Thomas... mumbled,in his Thick,Deep,Hoarse,Coarse,SmoothlyBrummie Birmingham Acent in the middle of the Comforting Silence. No Guns Shooting, not Family Bossing. Just the two of you, Quietly.