It had been a while, he thought, as he browsed the kumis kiosk in Reunion. How long? Four? Five days maybe? He shifted on his feet and adjusted the strap to his bag on his back. Extra furs and food for the pregnant wife back in the yurt. Maybe he could get something just for himself. Maybe he could just have a small bottle, drink it here and head back. A cup? He reached into his pocket to get some kind of payment when his fingers brushed against a worn stone. He tensed as he seemed to have forgotten it was there. He took a step back from the stand and pulled out the rock, glancing down at it. He rolled it around in his hand a bit before bringing his other hand over it, trailing his fingers across all the dips and grooves. There were marks in it as well, for when he had threw it across the room in anger, chipping away at its original size.

He took a breath and grumbled, shoving the stone back into his pocket and turning away from the kumis. She did not like it when he drank. She only thought the worst of him when he did. She fears he will just drown in the alcohol and never crawl back out. She was wrong, he always came back, and he never, never, hurt anyone else who did not deserve it whilst drunk. Just himself, that one time, well, he deserved it.

Continuing to grumble, he patted at his chest to feel out his cigarettes and bit one between his lips in a huff. He brought the match to it and lit it as soon as he got out of Reunion to take in a deep breath. The scent of plum and smoke surrounded him as he exhaled, it was a sweet smell, but had a bitter taste. He liked the bitter. He drew in another breath and started to make his way.