[Today’s NaBloPoMo Prompt is a question — do you enjoy growing old or do you fight against it?]

“Nah, go ‘head.” The tone of Rex’s voice perfectly expressed the passive annoyance of the car’s occupants, as Double-J pressed the cigarette lighter on his dashboard, an unlit cigarette dangling lightly between his lips.

The Bird asked Double-J if smoking ever made him run out of breath when fencing. Double-J took the cigarette from his mouth, and shot a glare up at The Bird’s reflection in his rear-view mirror. “What, you been talking to Annie?”

No, the slender girl replied. I just know my grandmother —

“Your grandmother fenced?” The Bird did not reply. “In case you haven’t noticed, ladybird, I only do saber, and saber matches are quick.” He waved the unlit cigarette with his right hand swiftly, nearly hitting Rex, uttering a terse whoosh with each wave. “And most tournaments, there’s only enough people in saber for one pool, then a couple DEs.”

tok. The handle of the cigarette lighter sprung from the dashboard. Double-J put the cigarette back into his mouth, grabbed the lighter, lit the cigarette end, placed the lighter back in the dashboard. Then took the lit cigarette out, and smiled sarcastically up at The Bird’s reflection. “And don’t get me started on what the doctors say. Seems to me, if we were really worried about living as long as possible we’d be better off eating like rabbits. Problem is, who wants to live like that? If we got a choice between a long, boring, vegetable-eating life — ” he pointed the lit cigarette at the rear-view mirror — “or enjoying life, regardless of the risk — well, I think you see what decision I’ve made.”

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