[ credence is still smiling when graves lights the cigarette, holding it between two fingers and pursing his lips to take a drag that will keep it lit. he's looking at graves through his lashes and whether it's on purpose or not isn't clear. but he smokes it lazily, exhaling toward the ceiling slow and deliberate like it's an idle seduction. maybe it is - credence is oddly precocious, always has been, and getting a crush on the man tasked with protecting him isn't particularly far-fetched.

anyway.

graves is the only person he ever does feel comfortable with; he's less tense, less terrible, less angry at the world for forcing him into a mold that he hates and doesn't fit into. graves lets him be himself. ] Why should they control me? I'm a person, not a plaything or some puppy to break with obedience classes.

[ it's said with a frown before he swivels a little, resting on his knees with his elbows crossed at the back of it, backwards as he looks at the older man. ] Am I? Some unruly pup to break? [ he sounds unsure of himself suddenly, taking another drag like he's nervous. he is - he doesn't want graves to think that of him, and the desire to know differently wears on him.

then, at graves' interest in where he'd go, there's a shyness that flutters up in him unbidden. ] The metropolitan. Maybe MoMA. Maybe both. If father knew, he'd...want to buy out the whole place, make me go alone except for guards. I just want to be normal for once. It's definitely not that you'd be with me. I like spending time with you. It's everything else that goes with it.