It was a dull, drab, wintry morning. The active snowfall had come to a halt for now, and the landscape was left with snow-dusted pines and a sparkling blanket of icy powder coating the entire mountain. It was as clear as crystal, as chilly as could be, and as still and silent as a stagnant pond. Tommy could even see the hot air coming from his nostrils with each exhale.

Tommy was used to the cold. He was used to being cold. He had grown up in New England, for Christ's Sake. However, this was probably the chilliest place he had ever been by far. The young adult had stepped outside only to smoke for a few minutes, and even in an insulated jacket, the cold was settling into his fingertips and toes. He glanced over the pure-white landscape observantly and calmly before taking a drag of his cigarette, inhaling in the sweet toxins, and breathing it back out into the atmosphere. Tommy had to cut down on smoking significantly because of the lack of product, which was super irritating to him, so these moments were well-spent and thoroughly enjoyed.

( this is Lame but i've been out of the writing flow with tommy for so long so just,, bear with me sodkdsk )

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Tommy was quite used to the criticism. Whether it was people lecturing him on the health problems that came with smoking to simply being scolded for the stinky smell, he had heard his fair share of bullshit from people. Frankly, he didn't give a shit. So, if some fourteen year old kid felt like yelling at him for his habits, then he'd let him. Not that it would bother him in any way.

Tommy glanced over at Brendan, nestling the cigarette in between his fingers, and he snorted, "I am smokin' somewhere else." He shifted so that he leaned against the wall casually. "Told me I couldn't light up in there, so I came out here. Got a problem wid' it?"

And, spitefully, pettily, he then proceeded to take another drag of his cigarette.

( jfc my muse is hoRRIBLE )

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