“So you’re afraid of the stuff too?” Nonna asked, rather awkwardly, staring reproachfully off into the distance as the bonfire continued to roar and dance, sending billows of smoke up into the night’s sky.
“I’m glad I’m not alone here. I like the atmosphere but, why does it have to be around a massive fire? It’s like they have no consideration for people who don’t like it. Pyrophobia isn’t rare, I’m sure it isn’t, fire destroys homes, families, lives, yet humans still love to dance and sing around it like they do. I’ll never understand it.”
The Russian sniffed, resting her head atop her knees, glancing up at the man next to her quizzically.
“You’re like me, aren’t you? A Representative? I’m sorry, I can’t quite tell who you are when it’s so dark out. It’s lovely to meet you, even if the circumstances are not so lovely.”