The man turned away. Looked at his partner who was smoking a cigarette and said, I don't think he's getting up.
He'll get up, the smoker replied.
The man resented this about his partner. Always unexplainably confident. He quit asking for reasons because smoker would never provide useful replies.
When the guy on the floor got up he was again annoyed. Irritated that his partner was right. Then he heard that annoying voice. See. I told you he'd get up.
And so you did.
Where am I? said the voice on the floor slow.
That doesn't matter. Just tell us what you know we want.
Hey. Hey. come on. You don't got to be so rude to the guy do you?
What does it matter? He looked down at the sleep crusted man with disheveled hair.
He's going to be gone soon anyways.
Smoker took a drag. Well that's why we gotta be nice to him. It's about respect.
Once those words sunk in, he realized what was happening. He got up from the floor and ran as fast as he could. Eight feet is all he got before he felt a tight grip around his ankle and heard the clinking of
metal
.
You ain't going nowhere. Sorry, my guy.
He did look sorry. The one with the
cigarette
in his mouth. The man beside him though was holding back a smile. He was enjoying this.
Smiley was about to come for the enchained when smoker put his hand to stop him. Smoker then circled around enchained and when they were face to face he offered a cigarette.
I don't smoke.
Does what you do and don't do matter at this point?
He shrugged and then he took the cigarette. What the hell? Why not feel a buzz while he went out. Although he didn't really believe he was going to die. No! he shouted. I don't fucking smoke!
Rejecting the cigarette allowed him to still believe. Still believe that he might get out of this. Live another day. If he were to accept the cigarette he'd be admitting that he in fact was a goner. Sticking to his ethics allowed him to not give up.
Okay, said smoker as he put the cigarette away. Have it your way, Diego.