Hymn

That midnight hour, Evan sank into an armchair singing Protestant hymns, his legs stretched out before the fireplace. His mud-spattered shoes were white, made of orca hide. The lustre of scales across his entire body shimmered deep green and crimson purple as he rolled up the sleeves of his ill-fitting coat. ‘Well then, shall we have some hot wine?’ He clasped his cold hands together and let out a deep sigh. After a moment, he said, ‘Before the wine,’ and pulled a cigar from his pocket. Clipping off the end, he lit it with a puff of fire from his mouth, clamped it between his teeth, and drew in the smoke with evident relish. Then, purple smoke billowed thickly from his nose and mouth as he wiped the dust of memory from his mind. ‘You seem rather tired, don't you?’ Diano smiled and stroked his back with his fin-like hand. Evan looked slightly displeased, then promptly stood up and began preparing mulled wine. The cigar clenched between his teeth glowed red, steadily emitting smoke. ‘I feel most at ease when I'm with you. Don't you agree? You're the only bloke who'd touch gold bars with his bare hands.’ He placed the mulled wine on the low table, gave a dry chuckle, and sat back down in his chair. ‘Well, come to think of it, I suppose I am the only one who does that sort of thing. But Evan, you had an apprentice, didn't you? Come to think of it, I believe it was something like a divine beast or the like.’ ‘Ah, yes. There is. A lad called Kururu. He can apparently smoke ten cigars at once.’ He blew smoke from his mouth over Diano's face before taking a sip of wine.