"Here, I'll carry all these things."
"Are you sure Mr. Priest? That's a lot of bags."
"Sure, I'm sure." Wolfwood answered his arms full of groceries. "Just pick up my stuff."
Millie grabbed Wolfwood's bag. Two small boxes were tucked away inside. In contrast, her and Meryl's bags were bulging and weighing down the Priest's arms. His shoulders swooped under the weight, but he showed no sign of straining.
When they reached the exit, Millie took the initiative to open the door for him.
Outside, the suns were shinning and the sky was radiating a predictable blue. A few people were commuting on the sidewalks. Some were laughing and some were grumbling.
"So what are all these for?" Wolfwood asked the tall insurance girl.
He had bumped into her unexpectedly at the store, and one way or another he ended up following her through the check-out. He was surprised she had even made it that far with all of her food supplies.
"Ms. Meryl has decided that we should make cake, pudding, brownies, and some cookies in celebration of our good news."
"Which would be…?"
Millie smiled. "Mr. Priest, we both got a significant raise from the Bernardeli Insurance Society for keeping Vash the Stampede in line the last few months. Ms. Meryl was so pleased, she started cooking right away. But then she realized we needed more ingredients and she sent me to go get them because the brownies were already in the oven and she didn't want to leave them with Mr. Vash."
"I see." Wolfwood answered.
They turned down another street, Wolfwood following Millie. He hadn't seen the insurance girls or Vash for nearly a month, and was mildly surprised to run into Millie. He knew they were in this little town, but he hadn't taken the initiative to seek out the blond gunman.
"Could you hand me one of those?" Wolfwood asked.
He nodded to his small bag.
Millie pulled out one of the small packs of cigarettes. Carefully, she opened it and pulled a stick free. Wolfwood came to a stop at the corner and put down some of her cooking ingredients. He grabbed the skinny little cigarette. Pulling out a lighter, he lit the end and inserted it into his mouth. He took a deep breath and they continued on their way.
Wolfwood felt a delicious sense of relief as they traveled onward. The silence that occupied them broke after several minutes.
"Mr. Wolfwood," Millie spoke. "These don't sound very healthy."
"What doesn't sound healthy?" He carefully mumbled.
His dark eyes wandered to Millie, who was studying the pack of cigarettes.
"Your cigarettes," She answered. "Did you look on the back? There's a very long warning list," she pointed out. "May cause lung cancer, heart disease, Emphysema, complications in pregnancy, contains hazardous—"
"Ok, I get it," he mumbled with more force than intended. He restrained from pointing out the fact that he was unlikely to become pregnant any time soon.
Wolfwood knew that Millie only had good intentions, but he didn't want to listen to the possible symptoms anymore. He knew what they were, but he had been smoking for years and so far so good. He had never been to the doctor's because of his smoking problems, and smoking didn't really seem like it had much of an affect on him. On the contrary, the habit always kept him occupied, calm, cool, and collected. He always had something to do when he had nothing to do.
Millie's silence, however, brought a new sense of guilt.
Wolfwood carefully removed his current cigarette, stepping on its fiery remains.
"Nothing has happened to me yet," he assured, trying feebly to retrieve her chipper mood that had been lost.
"But Mr. Wolfwood, what if something does?" She asked
"Don't worry about it. I've been smoking for years."
This comment only seemed to dampen the insurance girl more. She frowned, causing the Priest to feel more uncomfortable.
"It's nothing serious," he insisted, "it's just something I do."
He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see how she would take it. It didn't work. She looked put-out, almost like a child who had been denied a birthday.
"Don't look like that," he frowned.
She looked up at him and gave him a small smile. "I know it would be hard Mr. Wolfwood, but you should quit."
"Quit?" He asked.
Millie nodded. "You can do it," she insisted.
Quitting… he had tried it before and evidently it had been unsuccessful. Not only had the experience been excruciating, but he was perfectly fine with smoking. In fact, he enjoyed it.
"Yeah, alright." He answered offhandedly, and finally the insurance girl looked delighted. As long as the idea kept her happy, he wouldn't worry about it. She obviously didn't like it when people smoked around her. He could keep to that.
Then suddenly Millie happily let his grocery bag hit the bottom of the closest public trash can.
His heart sunk.
"Hey, I paid for that," he frowned.
"But you're quitting," she reminded.
"Already? Right now?" He asked
She giggled. "Of course Mr. Wolfwood, the sooner the better."
Now his spirits dampened. Immediately, he wished he could turn around and pick up the remains of his last cigarette (which had been trampled ruthlessly on the sidewalk). He tried to remember precisely where he had let it fall. His dark eyes wandered back to her.
"You want me to quit today? Right now?" He asked again.
"What did you think I meant, Mr. Priest? Oh Ms. Meryl will be so pleased. She's always complaining about all that smoke you carry around. She doesn't really like that smell, and I guess it gets on her, because then she complains all day about it. Actually, it puts her in a really bad mood, Mr. Priest."
Maybe it was the heat, or just the idea, but Wolfwood was beginning to have difficulty breathing and more than ever he wanted his cigarettes. He was feeling ill and out of place, even dizzy.
He barely noticed walking up the steps of their destination and was unaware when Millie announced their arrival. All he needed to do was put down the groceries and he could leave.