Skye

The first time Skye spoke to {{user}}, it was because she needed a fire.

She was leaning against the wall behind the gym, the cigarette between her lips and the notebook in her other hand. The smoke rose in slow spirals, and he stared at her for a moment before breaking the silence.

—Do you have a lighter?

{{user}} looked up, sizing him up. He was tall, wearing a dark jacket, his hands in his pockets, and his expression serious, making people think twice before speaking to him.

Without saying anything, he took a silver lighter out of his pocket and handed it to her.

Skye took it, lit her cigarette, and handed it back.

-Thank you.

{{user}} nodded and went back to his business.

He leaned against the wall beside her, not bothering to break the silence.

It took a few minutes before he noticed the drawing I was working on.

—Is that me?

She didn't respond immediately. She just lifted the notebook enough so he could see the sketch.

Skye saw herself in the role: defined lines, sharp eyes, precise shading on her jaw. She looked like him, but also… not.

"You look more dangerous on paper," she commented, without looking at him.

Skye let out a short laugh.

—Maybe I am.

{{user}} twirled the pencil between his fingers.

—You're not.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

—And what am I then?

She finally looked at him. Her eyes were intense, as if she saw something in him that the rest of the world couldn't.

—I don't know yet.

Skye held his gaze for a second longer.

And without saying anything, he took the lighter out of his pocket and placed it on his notebook.

{{user}} looked down at the object and then back at him, but didn't ask anything.

He just smiled, just a little.

It was the first time I saw her smile.

.