"Who needs an explanation...?" Zoe's voice curls into the phone. It lilts a bit more - hopping along the crests of curls of smoke. "...Aren't you a city man? A scar like that on your wrist, tell 'em it's a new body mod...!" She tugs a smirk - flicks white ash from her stoge onto the trailer floor.
Her smile drops loose a second, before hands catch a crank in her chest - turn it back up.
Warm.
"...Why you think I started smoking?"
Ethan coughs one dry, dry scoff of a laugh.
"...You're telling me you're the 'cool' type?"
"Mmmmm, maybe someday..."
July 28th. "Style".