Jamais Vu
Badou had met Haine by accident, during a job that he ended up spending most of his time running from the thugs of the people he was supposed to have been watching. They had grabbed Badou and tossed him through a diner window and into the shelves behind the counter. Haine had been slumped in one of the stools at the counter, fast asleep. Gunfire woke him up, and the silver-haired kid proceeded to throttle the thugs in a half-exhausted daze.
Meeting Haine meant getting acquainted with that crazy blind dude who claimed to be a priest and the weird cathedral he took care of in the underground. They became partners out of convenience, because Haine could kill people in his sleep if he had to whereas Badou was a walking dead man without his nicotine. And he healed fast. Like, really fast.
Sometimes he wanted to ask Haine things, like what he liked to eat or if he preferred cock over boobs or why there'd be times when he'd just sit by a window or a spot overlooking the street and stare off like he was lost and searching for a way. Then he figured that them being partners didn't give him the license to bring those issues up, and since Haine didn't seem to care about those things Badou figured that he didn't have to either.