"Don’t you dare speak of my past," Lazarus snarled. "You know nothing, nothing, about my perspective. About the pain. The humiliation. About who I had to become to survive. You were next to me, but you weren't me." His eyes flared, glowing faintly in the dark. "You’re an old, half-deaf mutt who still believes the world is painted in black and white. Maybe it’s time you finally grow up, as I did, and focus on your own miserable life for once. I’m not your damn project. I can stand on my own, and if my existence offends you so deeply, then leave," he stepped closer, voice trembling with restrained rage.
Gregor exhaled slowly. "You’re becoming just… " he was stopped midsentence.
"Or maybe should I remind you to whom you owe that warm, comfortable place in which you may rot in peace until death finally claims you, free from hunger, fear, or consequence. You were alone. An accidental survivor of a massacre, dragged from the ashes that should have been your grave. You were meant to die among those burnt ruins, forgotten and unnamed. It was my mercy that granted you food, shelter, and education. Later, you saved me, and for that, I am grateful. Grateful enough that I still think about your comfort and needs. And yet such disgraceful words dare to leave your mouth. Who do you think you are, to speak to me in such a manner?" The words ended in a low growl, quiet yet dangerous.
"…like her." The wolf ended his sentence quietly, but with a disappointment too heavy to hide.
"Enough!" the sighthound cut in sharply. "Don't you dare to hurt me like that. I’ve had enough of your sermons," he turned away, clenching his fists. "Why don’t you go outside and catch some damn sunlight instead of poisoning my day? Your old brain is making such a fuss over nothing. It’s almost amusing what happens to you mortals after a certain age." A sarcastic laugh came from Lazarus’ mouth. " So many noble springs behind you, and yet you all end up whining like spoiled children," he tried to sound calm, measured, but his blood was boiling. He was balancing on the edge of control.
"You could..." Gregor began again.
In a blink, Lazarus was inches from his face, "I said ENOUGH!"
The wolf fell silent. He met Lazarus’ gaze without fear, his eyes unyielding. Smoke from his cigarette coiled around his face before dissolving into the air. For a long moment, neither of them moved.
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