Novel & Cerita Spike Spiegel Smoking

’ I asked him through our mind link. He smiled back. ‘Proving a point,’ he replied, tipping his bottle of beer to his lips. That spark in Spade’s eye was a telltale that he would be at the front-row seat of this show starring Declan and me. I never thought he was a fan of drama.

I had my proposal speech prepared— from the last five years— and all that I needed was a chance. But Jade... Fuck, I really want to kill someone now. I came out in the open and dragged out a cigarette. Although I don't smoke regularly, today I want to because my lungs are aching from all the deep breathing I've been doing in the last twenty-four hours to keep myself under control. I was about to light it up when dad's scent hit my nostrils. He lit my cigarette using his lighter and raised his eyebrows, "So how was it?" I scoffed and dragged a puff of cigarette, "How was it? It was horrible. It was so fucking horrible that I am going to go on a killing spree after I finish my cigarette."

I order spicy pasta with pepper soup and just water. Jonas wrinkles his face at my choice of food. "How do you digest so much spice lady Rosie?" I shrug. "Yeah." Amara says. "You only ever eat spicy food. Why?" "Every other thing just tastes like... Ash." "That's weird." Violet mumbles. "Anywho... Today's bill's on me!" "Why?" Jonas blurts out. "That's weirder than lady Rosie's love for spice." Her honey coloured eyes begins to twinkle and she tucks her hair behind her ear.

said Lucien standing behind Sebastian who is smoking facing the window. “I never knew your habit of smoking” He stared at his back frowning. He never saw Sebastian smoke before. “This is my first time. I want to distract myself from thinking about her and only smoking seemed best choice” said Sebastian taking a puff and coughed. “Smoking is injurious to health” Lucien placed the file having Zara’s information on the table and advised him “Don’t worry I hate smoking and She hates it too. I just want to see her reaction when she sees me smoking”

The crowd watched in silence as the fire blazed, the smell of burning flesh filling the air. Mikhail stood there, watching the flames with a detached expression. The spy's screams soon faded, replaced by the crackling of the fire. Mikhail remained until the flames died down and all that was left was a pile of ashes. He turned to Spike, one of his most trusted guards. "Pack his ashes into a champagne bottle," he instructed. "Send it to Spain. Let them know what happens to those who betray us." Spike nodded, retrieving a champagne bottle and carefully collecting the ashes. Once the task was complete, he sealed the bottle and carried it away, ready to send the grim message.

He spoke slowly, his eyes narrowing as he studied my face. I crossed my arms over my chest, a lopsided smile playing on my lips. "I've been smoking for a while now. Wait, have you never seen me smoking before?" I asked, feigning surprise. Romeo shoved his hand into his pocket, the other still holding his cigarette. His gaze never wavered from mine, his piercing eyes didn't leave my face. "You can't fool me, Young," He uttered. I shook my head. "I could never smoke. Smokers are liable to die young. Smoking is bad for your health. You should think about giving it up, Sparks," I said bluntly.

Can I really believe him with what's left of my past? “Fuck it.” I curse under my breath, lighting up a cigarette. It's been a long while since I smoked, but it's about damn time I lit up one again. I don't wanna see Spencer at the time and I need to think. With my sleep derived brain which is constantly trying to bring me down by making me relive my horrible past, I need something to help me with my head. A cigar seems to be the only good thing right now.

But Calvin just shot him a cold glare, instantly putting out his enthusiasm. Henry smirked sarcastically, pulled a cigarette from the case on the table, stuck it between his lips, and took a deep drag—only to choke immediately. “Shit, is this thing spiked?” Calvin was clean when it came to substances. He smoked, but not excessively. Occasionally, he indulged in cigars, but he never touched anything harder. Lately though, he’d switched things up—choosing a strong Russian cigarette, completely unlike his usual style. Tapping his long finger on the carton, he said,

"I..." "Seeing you like this once again, I would think you are a spy sent to kill me" he said, walking towards a table and talking out a cigarette. He placed it in his mouth and without caring about the woman in the room, lit it and took a draw from it in a graceful manner.

Smoke curled upward against the lamp light. He leaned back, exhaling lightly as if every thought weighed on him burned at the top of the cigarette. “You want to know something about a Sobranie?” He murmured. “It's rare, expensive but it burns out just the same. Doesn't matter who's holding it.” Ariel folded her arms. “That's supposed to mean something?” His eyes cut to hers through the veil of smoke, pointed and unreadable. “Everything means something.” For a moment silence hung thick between them, broken only by the faint hiss of the cigarette. Ariel hated how even this, even the act of smoking looked powerful in his hands. He wasn't smoking for pleasure but for control, punctuation and the