A/N: vaguely ties into Windswept. Moth belongs to me.

Vapors

The sudden hiss of a match is what catches the moth's attention. He pauses, mid-flight, and looks downward in search of the source of the sound. Sure enough, he sees it: somebody sitting in the shade of a large tree, lighting a pipe. He gravitates toward the tree, and takes a seat of his own on a branch a few feet above the stranger, watching as he now shakes the match out.

Admittedly, watching someone smoke isn't the most exciting thing Moth could be doing right now, but he's never seen this person in these woods before. Just a few days ago, Butterfly had told him about a drifter in the forest, and he wonders if this is him. Butterfly had certainly described a person similar to this one, that was for sure.

The stranger leans back against the tree, the brim of his hat now hiding his face from Moth. But Moth can hear the soft popping as he puffs on the pipe. The sound makes him smile a little, it's almost cute in a way.

It seems like this stranger isn't going to be doing anything particularly interesting, Moth realizes soon enough. It's almost disappointing; if this was the same person Butterfly had met, he had hoped for something a little more exciting. He thinks that maybe it'd be different if he fluttered down to where the other is, but shyness and apprehension keep him on the branch. Resigning that nothing of interest is probably going to happen, the moth stands and gets ready to leave.

And then a ring of smoke floats up in front of him, gradually widening and then dispersing all together. His mouth falls open in a small 'o' of surprise, and he looks back down to the stranger at the base of the tree. Sure enough, some of the smoke he's exhaling is taking the shape of rings. For some reason Moth can't quite place, this fills him with a sort of curious wonder.

He waits for another smoke ring to float up his way, and this time he leaves the branch. Carefully, he flutters into the center of the expanding ring, and runs his hand through the vapor. He sees another ring floating upward, and dips down to the center of that one. This time, he intentionally distorts the smoke, raking his fingers through the ring.

"Having fun?"

The voice below him catches him off guard, and he stumbles a little in the air. His surprise is obvious as one hand goes to his chest as though that will calm his startled heart. The stranger laughs softly, much to Moth's embarrassment.

"I didn't mean to startle you," Joxter says with a little smile, his head cocked to the side as he watches the silvery moth fluttering. He lifts one leg, bending his knee, then presses his elbow to it so he can rest his cheek into his palm. His gaze is intense, and vaguely reminds moth of a cat's.

He takes the pipe's bit back into his mouth, quietly taking another pull of smoke. Moth watches with an intensity of his own as Joxter's lips part afterward, and a small puff of smoke escapes, shifting into another ring. It makes its way lazily toward Moth, and this time he lets the ring collide with him, his body disrupting the shape all together. The smoke coils around him instead, then dissipates.

"Oh, you didn't even try that time," Joxter below teases with a chuckle. "Should we try again?"

Having been caught watching this stranger had been bad enough, but it was made worse that he'd been seeing playing in the smoke rings. It shouldn't have been able to get worse than that, and yet here Moth is, the obvious center of attention now. The red under his eyes darkens and spreads across the bridge of his nose, and he shakes his head before backing up in the air. As he turns himself around to fly away, he looks over his shoulder just once.

Joxter is still watching him, and Moth is convinced he will until he's out of sight all together.

Even much later on, the smell of smoke clings to his wings.