[he can say as much as he wants. she's listening without speaking, and if that makes her divine then bring on the concubines. her eye is fixed on him, even when she picks up the cigarette again and takes a slower drag from it. he tells that story about going into a closet and playing seven minutes in heaven, and she tries not to smile. he tells her that the girl wanted to play with his hair, and that the girl felt safe with him. he's not like other boys, in so many words.]

[she blows the smoke out over her head again. a signal to the devil who lives inside of her, maybe.]

You're getting good with that smoke. [she's quiet.] Did you like it? Getting that close with her. Even if nothing happened. [a memory stirs.] Did it make you feel right more than it made you feel wrong?