it's a metaphor for consumerism, i think

chapter 4 oh its actually kind of serious now. sorry

"That's what they've been doing so far." Artemy nodded "Well, it could really be anything. I was jailed for murdering my father."

"Whuh?" I look at him, wide-eyed "You did?"

He huffed "Obviously not! What do you take me for?" Clearly, a sore subject

"Sorry, your word choice just made me confused. I don't think that.. he was my favorite dilf, I'm sorry for your loss."

"A what? I suppose that's something nice. Thank you, I think." His eyes flicked to mine and then away again.

We sat there in silence, on the cold stone floor. Despite everything, it was still comfortable to be suffering with a friend, arms pressed against one another, oddly warm and comforting. While the day drew to night, only pale moonlight filtering through the small rectangular window lighting up the room, a sudden memory of the day flashed before my eyes, and I frowned. Before, I'd just pushed it away, but something about it just..

"um.. so you have a son too, then?"

"..You met Sticky?"

"Sticky, that's a dumb name." he pulled a face but didn't reply "But yeah."

"What were you doing at my house?"

"I was looking for you." I pulled my knees closer, looking at him through the corner of my eye "He um.. he said something interesting, to me. He said that he thought I was a Shabnak. Did you.. did you tell him that? That I was a shabnak?"

"I didn't say that, no." Perhaps letting out more than he'd meant to, he bit his tongue and looked away "No, I didn't. He came to that conclusion all to himself"

"Aha, that's interesting, yeah." I turned my head to look at him, feeling a sudden danger of betrayal looming overhead "Because he told me that you'd expressly forbidden me to come to your house, and then he kicked me out. Is that so?"

"Be khara. Interesting imagination those kids have." Artemy's voice was guarded, and I moved to shuffle away from him.

"Interesting, indeed." My reply was similarly guarded, staring at him with uncertain eyes and a strange discomfort that emanated across the room. I paused, looking away to stare at the cold stone floor. "I thought though, that as your friend, you wouldn't hesitate to be a bit more honest with me."

A sharp intake of breath followed "Myy uymen, it's a bit more of a complicated situation than what I can tell you. Please trust me that I'm doing it for your safety."

"My safety?" I blinked, surprised, then looked at him "My son is dying of the plague right now, the least thing I want to concern myself with is my safety. What is it that I need to be protected from that is in your house?"

Artemy worked his jaw for a second, clear uncertainty in everything- how he sat, how he moved his fingers. Something had changed since the last time we'd talked. "I don't want you to get involved with how I try to work my way around the plague, that's all, truly all."

"..Artemy," I looked straight into his eyes, desperate to get any sort of answer I could from just the aging lines on his face "What's really the problem?"

He opened his mouth, then pointedly closed it, a furrow on his brow. "It's not really.."

"We are sitting in jail for an indeterminate amount of time, if there's any moment to discuss this, let it be now."

He looked straight ahead of him, clearly trying not to look anywhere near my direction as the gears turned in his brain. "..Well," he paused "It's going to make your stay very uncomfortable."