...
"Hey hey, what's with those expressions? Being a security guard is a serious job too. It's just a different role in the revolution; you guys better not look down on me." Yves King took in their shocked faces with indifferent, shrugged his shoulders, and, with a wide smile, pulled out a cigarette that had been prepared in advance.
Upon seeing the packaging of his cigarettes, the faces of a few male classmates turned even ghastier. Are you kidding me? Can anyone actually smoke this brand? Even the laborers on construction sites smoke better one, right?
As they pondered how Yves could have sunk so low, they politely declined his offered cigarette, each taking out their own expensive smokes, snorting derisively, "Smoke this, smoke this."
"I've grown used to this brand, let's each smoke our own." Yves said, shrugging off the pretentious stares of the crowd with a jovial demeanor. He happily reached for a matchstick, lit his cigarette, and began drawing from it.
