““I don’t know, man.” He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Ew!” I recoiled. “You smoke?” “Only when I drink,” he said, reaching for a lighter, “or when I’m seriously depressed.” I snatched the pack away. “These will kill you, and you don’t want that.” “Yeah?” he said sarcastically. “How should I get myself killed then?” “You could hang out with me some more,” I suggested. “I attract homicidal maniacs like mosquitoes, baby.””
