Blackcat & ClaraMint
Blackcat Blackcat
ClaraMint ClaraMint
Blackcat Blackcat
Hey ClaraMint, have you ever noticed how the city’s traffic lights sync up with the rhythm of a cigarette ash? I’ve catalogued thirty‑seven distinct patterns—like a quiet, restless lullaby. It’s oddly romantic, don’t you think?
ClaraMint ClaraMint
Ah, I see the city breathing in smoky pulses, a quiet lullaby of red, green, amber, and ash. It feels like a bittersweet romance, doesn't it?
Blackcat Blackcat
A little romance in the hum of traffic. Just make sure you don’t trust anyone who thinks it’s a good idea to hand out cigarettes at rush hour.
ClaraMint ClaraMint
A sigh of smoke and traffic feels like a secret duet, but I'd rather keep the flame in my own hands, thank you.
Blackcat Blackcat
Got it, keep the flame private. I’ll keep an eye on the traffic’s rhythm.
ClaraMint ClaraMint
Thank you, it’s a quiet comfort to have someone keeping an eye on the city’s pulse.