He clenches the cigarette between his teeth and the ashy end crumbles, just a little bit. The monochrome coloring falls to his feet where all the surviving fiery fire is stomped out in fury.
She sneaks up behind him, black hair brushing his shoulders. Absentmindedly, his hands come up to weave patterns between the strands. "What do you want to do with them?"
Her voice is controlled but edged with trembling fury that he senses and plays with. "They didn't accept me. Burn them."
"I can't—"
And then words clouded by smoke flow out of his mouth, angry and steadfast. "They—they call themselves the 'gods' as if they can rule us and our guns and everything but they can't, they can't Thalia because this is our world, not theirs—"
"Luke Castellan that is your family out there—"
The stub falls from his mouth, hits the ground. "Do it. Now."
She solemnly nods and walks away and he lights another cigarette.
screw the no drabbles thing