Chapter 2: The Second Snubbing
Chapter Text
Over the next couple of days Christophe silently joined the redhead for a lunch time smoke. He continued his silence, and the girl did the same. He didn't feel bad for snubbing her when they met; he figured that like all of the American women he encountered she would be both vapid and unwilling to see beyond her nose: in his own words a typical American "dipsheet". With that snap judgement in mind, the obvious solution was also the simple one: keep the mystery alive.
Still, her silent company became preferable to smoking alone during the lunch hour. He had never seen a pretty girl smoke cigarettes outside of the film noir movies he had a fondness for during sleepless nights. He really enjoyed the sight, and it touched on his vague notions of romance. The beautiful women, dashing men, and general aesthetic of the novels and films he consumed became the bedrock of what Christophe considered "cool". He couldn't help but admire the elegant styles of various vintage media; however he lived a very utilitarian existence.
As a smoker, he especially appreciated how the noir media glamorously depicted the "ugly" habit of smoking. This sweet looking girl with her soft features looked like a dame from one of his movies with all the pungent smoke coiled around her coppery blonde hair.
The Mole began smoking in the second grade, and stopped attempting to hide the habit after his brush with death during the American Canadian war. Consequently through his entire childhood, he had heard all the lectures that the Christ loving hypocrites had to offer on the virtues of quitting. Their arguments made no difference to him especially since he put his life on the line with every mission, and openly embraced his slightly suicidal vice.
When at school, Mole half heartedly paid attention. He never spoke to anyone in class; he rarely answered questions, for he only bothered to respond when a teacher called upon him. He only went to school in order to keep the truant officers from harassing him, and to keep his mother and father from noticing his existence. They did not bother chastising their son over any of the grades he brought home, but usually received C's. He always managed to pass the tests, and never did homework. As long as he did not get held back a grade, or receive any calls home, his existence remained on the periphery of their lives. Where their negligence allowed him to do as he pleased.
After he discovered the best place to smoke at the school, Christophe's drawings and imagination took a new direction; most notably he began to doodle womanly figures in the margins of his notebook. His favorite sketch thus far was of two figures each lighting their cigarette off a single match. As he began to contemplate the details on this figure the bell rang for lunch. With a short sigh, he picked up his notebook and put it into the inner pocket of his winter coat along with the pencil, and waited for the students at the exit to thin out. While he waited, he pondered what his smoking companion's name might be, and how he could go about finding out.
Weather in the early autumn usually oscillated between snow and freezing rain. The downpour outside came down in icy sheets, but Christophe was undeterred when it came to escaping the mind numbing banality of socialising with the school's populace. Christophe pulled the hood of his jacket up over his head, and stepped outside. He did hard work as a mercenary, and a little bit of rain did not even present itself as an issue. He hiked away from the school towards the trailers, when he turned the corner and looked into the smoker's realm, and felt his heart flutter to see the pretty girl standing in her usual spot. This time she was leaning against the trailer with a golden umbrella over her head while she smoked. She looked up at him, and he felt his face get hot from the confines of his warm hood. She arched an eyebrow, exhaled a grey puff of smoke through her nose, and looked back down at her phone.
He reached into one of the pockets on his jacket and withdrew his cigarette and zippo. For a moment Mole considered trying to find a metal cigarette case online (perhaps one with pin stripes), but decided against it immediately. It would be a useless accessory that would clutter his life, and it would prove a disaster if he lost it on a mission. Again, simplicity was the answer.
He looked over at the girl, and was surprised to see her straighten up with a cigarette half smoked. Was she about to leave? He figured that she was too much of a pussy to deal with the weather. She took a step toward Christophe, and he thought nothing of it. He wanted to continue the impression of indifference and set his gaze on the line of trees.
"I can't stand to watch you get soaked though." a soft, sultry voice said, and even though he knew it came from the girl he still felt shocked that she offered to share the shelter of the golden umbrella.
still somewhat surprised Christophe nodded. He finally met the girl's bright eyes, and realised they were a fetching peridot green. Looking into them made his heart flutter behind his ribs, but his icy resolve crumbled when he noticed the freckles that dotted the pale skin around her nose. He cleared his throat softly before muttering in a thick french accent, "Thanks."
He stood stiffly, and smoked his cigarette in a silence that felt even more awkward than even their first meeting. With his eyes determinedly focusing on the line of trees that stood about 30 meters away he did not notice the amused expression on the girl's face. She held the umbrella with one of her petite hands, and peered into the side of his face with a ghost of a smile on her lips. She examined the dirty fingers that poked out of his fingerless gloves, and suppressed a fleeting impulse to see if they were as rough as they looked. Her pale eyes followed the hand as he brought the smouldering cigarette to his lips for a pull. He held it between thumb and index in a way that seemed familiar to Millie, but found herself unable to recall exactly what way.
Their eyes caught each other again when Christophe chanced a glance back at his companion. This time he offered an apologetic smile that revealed two rows of smokers' teeth: faint yellow with a small gap between the front. The aloof teen found himself on the receiving end of a snub when the girl pointedly turned her own head away from him. She smiled as she did so which perplexed Mole. he did not know that she easily became amused by her own petty cleverness, or laughed loudest at her own jokes .
The two silently chain-smoked the entire lunch period. One blushed and cursed at God, That Fucking Rat Above, while the other held in giggles.