A good teacher

Ivo followed Davi into the mass of dancing bodies, trying not to bump into anyone. More people seemed to be joining in. Someone had jammed a piece of plastic under the rooftop's access door, propping it open.

Davi exchanged some words with a guy holding a lit cigarette and then held out his own towards his. The guy looked him up and down with a smirk, and nodded. Ivo watched in confusion as Davi placed his unlit cigarette back between his lips and then leaned towards the other man, who wrapped a hand around Davi's neck as the tips of the two cigarettes touched and ignited.

His cigarette lit, Davi left the thick of the crowd to lean against the railing, not far from where Alina was still dancing with the girl with the dark curls.

Ivo felt awkward just standing there without dancing, but was too self-conscious to join someone else as other people were doing. So he followed Davi.

"Not dancing?" Ivo asked him, just to have something to say. Even in 'O Bicho Come' he hadn't seen these many people in a single place.

Davi took a long drag from his cigarette and tapped off the ash. "Not my thing, but you can go if you want."

"I guess it's not my thing either," he said, even as he felt the thrum of the music under his skin, compelling him to move to the earthy beat.

Davi gave him a knowing look from the corner of his eye, but said nothing. Ivo eyed the cigarette between his fingers.

"Can I try that?" he asked, thinking about the odd intimacy of seeing Davi light his cigarette with the other guy's.

That guy was still dancing, but he drifted towards the edges of the crowd often, trying to catch Davi's eye. His pale skin gleamed with sweat, his eyes were an unnatural turquoise colour that made it obvious he had optics.

He had an eye-catching rose tattoo on his throat, with thorny vines wrapped around his neck and snaking under his distressed tank top. He was attractive, but maybe Davi didn't think so, or didn't care.

"Cigarettes are addictive," Davi said, matter-of-fact, "better avoid that."

"I know." Ivo eyed the cherry red tip, and then the mouthful of smoke Davi blew out. "I still want to try."

Davi gave him a prolonged look and then passed him the cigarette wordlessly.

Ivo did his best to inhale as he had seen Davi do. He sucked on the yellow filter in a short pull but ended up coughing as soon as the smoke went down his throat. It felt like he had swallowed fire.

"That always happens at first." Davi pulled Ivo's hand towards his mouth and took a puff of the cigarette still clutched between his fingers. "Slower, short puffs."

He demonstrated, and the next time Ivo tried he managed to hold in the smoke and then let it out in an even cloud. "It tastes terrible," he said, wrinkling his nose.

Davi snorted. "Good, that means you won't try again." Despite his words he didn't sound very convinced.

"You're a good teacher," Ivo said, just to see what Davi would say.

Davi let out a sudden laugh. "Some teacher...what have I taught you? Killing and smoking?" He shook his head with wry humour.

"Let me try again."

Davi shot him a pointed look but passed him the cigarette again without comment.

That was how Thiago found them when he came up to the rooftop. He tsked loudly as soon as he saw Ivo smoking. "Is this what you're teaching the kid?"

A sudden burst of laughter made Ivo cough out all the smoke in a breathless wheeze. Davi took the cigarette from him and finished it, crushing it underfoot after he was done, the corner of his lips tilted up.

"I asked him to," Ivo said, feeling suddenly compelled to defend Davi.

Thiago hummed and looked between the two of them, his chrome arm crossed in front of his broad chest. "Anyway, have any of you tried the synth sausage?"

Davi patted himself down. "I'm going to get another cigarette," he said and disappeared among the crowd without a look back.

"I'm glad to see the two of you are getting along better."

Ivo shrugged. But he was glad too. Over the past week Davi had slowly thawed around him. He wouldn't say he was nice, much less friendly, but he was less abrasive. At least he seemed convinced that Ivo truly had no memories -- that had made him let his guard down.

Most of all, Ivo liked seeing himself improve. He tried hard during training, even when he was exhausted. He had nothing else, he couldn't even be sure if the name he answered to was really his own. He wanted to be good at something just so that he could have some adjectives to describe himself with other than 'amnesiac'.

Over the course of seeing him fall on his face and get back up again, somehow, Davi had developed a grudging respect for him.

"Shit, what's he doing here?" Thiago cursed, bringing Ivo out of his reverie.

He followed Thiago's line of sight towards a guy who stood in the middle of the crowd as it parted around him. It was easy to see why. He was tall, with glossy dark skin, accentuated by the silver of the buckles on his tight-fitting leather pants, and the chain that dangled between his nipples.

His eyes were a starry black, with no visible white sclera, but Ivo could still tell he was looking around, searching for someone. He ran a hand over the white fuzz of his scalp, and ran his tongue over the ring nestled in the middle of his plush lower lip. He was annoyed.

Ivo noticed that his right hand was a sleek chrome. It caught the neon light of the city when he moved.

"Who is he?" he asked Thiago.

Before he could get an answer, Davi returned, a lit cigarette dangling between his lips and a tightness to his jaw that hadn't been there when he left.

He wrapped his hand around Ivo's wrist. "Change of plans, let's dance," he said, tugging him forward into the makeshift dance floor.