Chapter Text
It was a pleasant mid-Summer day when Elias Bouchard first met someone in the alley behind the Institute. They appeared to be completely average, and the only remarkable thing about them was the rate at which they burnt through their cigarette. In the time it took him to pull his own cigarette from the case and light it, they had inhaled the remaining half of theirs and reached into their flour-covered apron for another.
He watched them for a moment as they fumble to light it with a match. There’s amusement in watching them mutter and curse as the first few matches strike and burn out too fast for the cigarette to light.
“I wasn’t aware people were still using matchboxes these days,” he called out lowly, and they startled and immediately cursed as the match that had finally lit sputtered out when they looked at him.
“Christ, I didn’t know you were there.”
“That much was clear. You seemed quite preoccupied with your struggle.”
They shifted slightly and straightened from where they’d been leaning against the wall.
“Yes, well, it’s- Hi.”
They gave him a little wave.
“And I use the matches because I was told butane lighters change the taste. Don’t know if I taste the difference, though.” They shrugged.
He chuckled and held out his own lighter, he was feeling generous today and their struggle had made this quick smoke break into a memorable one.
“It’s only true for cheap lighters and older wick and kerosene ones.”
They hesitated for a moment before reaching across the narrow alley to take the offering.
“Anything that uses low-quality butane or certain kinds of liquid fuel will alter the taste.” He explained as they brought the lighter up to their cigarette and the warm glow of the brief flame cast stark shadows on their face. They looked tired.
But their eyes were bright and curious as they noticed the etched design on his lighter.
Turning it over in their hand as they pulled a long breath and exhaled a cloud of smoke that curled around their head.
“Nice lighter,” they passed it back. “Way nicer than the ones I get. Which are probably the cheap ones.”
He hummed in reply, tucking the brass lighter back into his inner pocket. The engraved eye motif caught the light as he did.
“One is only as good as their investments.”
Their eyes swept over him and he didn’t need any particular gift to know they were making some judgement about him.
“Would you recommend tax free savings or investing in BitCoin then?” There was a note to their voice that was teasing but-
“What on earth is BitCoin?”
He could find the answer himself or feign knowing but he was so briefly baffled that the question slipped out.
They frowned and the hint of playfulness in their expression became awkward.
“I thought you were an investment broker or some kind of… investment mogul.”
He blinked.
“I have other people to handle my investments.”
Their confusion cleared as they came to a more accurate estimation of him: a rich man.
“Is this BitCoin worth investing in?”
“That’s, uh.”
A voice conveniently called from the building opposite and they quickly finished the rest of their cigarette and sighed.
“It was nice meeting you, but that’s me.”
They were rushing back inside when they paused in the door to look back at him with a small smile.
“Thanks for the light and the chat, have a good day.”
He smiled and nodded back, and they were gone. Leaving behind the smell of burnt matches.