Ethan solemnly stared up at the full moon as he savoured the cancer sticks he was hooked on.
*What's the deal with you, the big guy, and his family?* Elara questioned.
Ethan exhaled smoke slowly.
"Mark's my friend..."
He paused.
"My brother."
Another pause.
"His family raised me from around eight."
*Why? Where was your family?* she questioned curiously.
Ethan took another drag before answering casually, "My mother died."
*What about your father?*
He shrugged.
"Fuck knows."
There was a small, humourless smile.
"After all, my mother was an escort."
There was a heavy silence, with Elara freezing mid-sign, unsure what to figuratively say.
"She did what she had to do," he continued, his tone calmer now. "She's just an unfortunate product of her environment, just like Mark."
*What do you mean? Is he an escort, too?*
For a brief second, Ethan imagined his giant friend dancing on a pole or selling his body.
He snorted.
"No."
A laughed faintly.
