August: Oh...
He bites his lip again, fidgeting
"What's wrong..?"
August: Um...I-um...I-want one...
He frowned.
"Sorry."
August: Yeah...I-it's not your fault...
"..."
August: ...I'm sorry...
"It's..fine."
August: ...Um...there's-there's more in my apartment...I have spare packs...So-I-we should-I should...
"I'll throw them away."
