Work Text:
If you asked Quackity when he was younger if he wanted to smoke, the boy would’ve looked at you like you were crazy. Of course he knew that, and he had to laugh. Especially now as he stood on the balcony of his tallest casino, smoking a cigar. He used to think they were awful things that only the worst people indulged in. He guessed that made him one of those people.
He wondered what his ex-fiancés would think if they saw him. Karl would probably be furious with him, and a part of him wished Karl was there to be angry. To shout and scream and finally knock some sense into him.
A small part of him wanted to admit he’d give up everything to have them back. He’d abandon Las Nevadas in a heartbeat and run off to wherever. Settle down with them and live that peaceful life they’d wanted together.
The rest of him knew he wouldn’t. He was too stubborn, far too stubborn. If Sapnap came to his down now and asked him to drop everything and run off with them, he’d shut the door.
Quackity knew he wasn’t a good person. Maybe that’s why he smoked. An excuse really, he knew the truth was that he was depressed and needed an outlet. He didn’t care for truths though, Quackity was a natural lair after all. That’s why Las Nevadas was his home, a gambling city built on lies, his lies.