Re: [carnival: misha and james]
Misha, he hadn't never smoked. Damian had given him a few puffs here and there, but he hadn't never developed the habit. Now, Damian was away, and the cigarettes were a comfort some; he'd got accustomed to the taste of them on his tongue, to the memories they carried in tar and sweet spices. He inhaled burn that wasn't going to kill him any, not any more than it would kill Nilus, and he listened to James saying Nilus deserved good things. It was a sentiment Misha shared, and the sentiment he felt rolling off the man made him more certain that Nilus had made a good choice when it came to James. "You ain't intruding. You're real welcome to stay, and I'm real glad you're here," he said real quick, real genuine.
Weird, it was a real simple way to describe being alive again, but could be there was no good language for it. It might be like death itself, which couldn't be explained none to the living. Misha, he'd always reckoned dying was beautiful, but that was rose-colored glasses some, and he knew that now. It was still beautiful, but not in the simple way he'd thought once. "You looked real sad whenever I saw you 'fore. Now you look... something, but it ain't sad." He hoped that meant it was better, whatever James was feeling.
"How's it different to see things dead?" It was a youthful, curious question, one asked without malice intended any by the bluntness. "I reckon this time's real different, and I reckon it was plenty frustrating to see things and not be able to change them. The first time I saw you, it was when I got Nilus out from the Quiet Home. Watching that, it must've been real difficult." He remembered how Nilus looked that night, all bruised raw after the lobotomy. "If you need help settling, any help at all, you let us know. If you want a spot further away from the noise, you say and we can make it happen." He was real confident Damian would help.