Angel Dust

Briefly, Valentino eyes the cigar box as Anthony tucks it into his suitcase. He's just mildly curious; he can't picture Anthony being at all partial to cigars (though he does take an extra second to imagine him with one in his mouth, his soft lips parted around it), so he guesses it's more for storage and safekeeping. His curiosity, however, ends there, his attention drawn back to Anthony by the sound of his voice.

Val notes the self-deprecation folded into the question. Stuck with me, he says, like he thinks he's a burden. And maybe that's just what he's been told by people whose opinions hold weight, maybe it's even the truth. Valentino finds it interesting, but he doesn't correct him.

He slides both of his hands into his pockets and resumes his slow, casual stroll. He's nearly made it full circle by now.

"However long it takes. Why?" He looks at Anthony, smiling with teeth this time, a thread of playfulness weaving through his tone. "Are you tired of me already?"