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The night sky was an inky blue with a few noncommittal stars shining through the city’s light pollution. Ahead, Genos spotted a small glowing ember from the end of a cigarette. As he approached the figure leaning against the wall, he realised that it was a familiar face.
“Mumen,” he greeted, slowing to a stop.
His acquaintance took a drag from his cigarette.
“Good evening, Genos,” he said looking up at the sky. The light reflected on his glasses. “What brings you out so late?”
“I could ask you the same,” the cyborg responded, also stealing a glance at the night sky above.
“I enjoy watching the sky at night.”
“Why?”
“It’s comforting.”
“How?”
“We’re rather small don’t you think?”
“I suppose.”
In fact, Genos had thought the very same thing. They were small and meaningless in the vast universe.
“So that is comforting to you as well, Mumen?”
“I’d say so,” he said, pressing the burning end of his cigarette against the wall. “I’d better get going. Oh, by the way, that’s a nice colour on you.”
After the biker walked off, Genos looked down at his own shirt. Midnight blue. Well, it was only a matter of time before the shirt got torn to shreds in battle, but he could always get a new one when that happened.