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"Back at it?" Ace asks, interrupting his routine.
Arsenal takes another long drag.
"I thought you quit!"
Arsenal exhales. Ace watches the smoke billow for a moment, then goes back to punching air. Left, left, right, left.
"Maaan, and there I was, almost admiring you. Quitting sure sucks. I kept patting my pockets for a pack." Right, left, left, right. "And then you just stopped and I thought, wow, how hard it must be for him." Right, left. "But you totally went through with it. You made it." He keeps bouncing as he looks up.
Arsenal stares at the cigarette between his fingers. The red glow slowly eats its way towards the filter.
Ace stills and focuses all of his attention at Arsenal's face. Sometimes that makes him answer.
"You made it," he repeats. "Why did you start again?"
Arsenal blinks, then leans forward to stub out what's left of his cigarette. "Doesn't matter anyway." Press down, twist. The glow fades. Press harder. "He's not here any more."
Silence.
"Guess not," Ace says.
He watches as Arsenal gets up and leaves, then punches the wall on his way to the bar.