[He thought he saw the guy put that cigarette back in the box earlier. His eyes immediately go to that hand reaching for it again, but he simply shrugs, sitting in a nearby chair and leaning back a bit. His own hand is still gripping at his arm, closing his eyes as he feels the room starting to spin lightly.]
Some people love their home, no matter how bad it is. But everyone's different.
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Some people love their home, no matter how bad it is. But everyone's different.