[ she doesn't expect him to join her where she is on the floor, unknowingly beginning to take root even though her mind has been attempting to remind her there is a perfectly good bed back in her own room. he looks like he's settling down, and it feels almost rude now to feign propriety and excuse herself.

she drops her eyes to the burnt gold of her drink, lips twisting against the pull of her heart for a home too far away. ]

Do you have holidays where you're from, Takeshi Kovacs?

[ she's getting a little better, learning not to treat anything as a given these days. ]

They're days meant to celebrate or commemorate something. Usually a past event or, or a general sentiment.

[ she's sounding more wistful than she means to be, but he had asked for honesty and marta has never known how to give anything but. ]

Right around now, when it starts getting colder and the nights start getting longer, we would be celebrating the holidays meant for family.

[ she lifts the cigar again, idly spinning it between her thumb and forefinger. ]

I don't really smoke, but I had uncles who did. They were never allowed to do it inside, so it wouldn't have really felt right unless it smelled a little like the wind, too.

[ she eventually sets the cigar down on the floor just before her crossed legs, opting instead to curl both her hands around the glass she finally brings up to her lips. ]

I guess the smell just reminds me of simpler times.