On self-image.

It was a summer night, and it was a goddamned hot one. You could feel the heat rising from the pavement. Akemi Homura was sitting on a curb, and Kyubey on the sidewalk. A flickering street lamp was trying desperately to illuminate them and coming just short of the mark.

"Hey," Homura said. "Look at what I've got."

She pulled out a pack of cigarettes from what must have been an invisible pocket.

I see, said Kyubey. Are you sure you should smoke? It's not very healthy.

"Doesn't matter anyway," said Homura moodily. "I'm not even alive anymore, right?"

You're still subject to health problems.

"I don't really care. I want to, so I'm going to. It'll look cool." Homura sniffed and tilted her head.

You seem to have a preoccupation with this "cool". I don't understand.

"I'm not going to explain cool to you. There are better wastes of time."

Why is smoking cool?

"Hard to say. I suppose it's to do with the way the smoke goes up into the sky. It's a striking image."

You humans have an obsession with upward movement.

"We do build skyscrapers. I suppose you could say we want to touch the stars. Don't tell me your fellow Coobies didn't build them, once upon a time?"

Coobies? Kyubey tilted his head.

"Yeah. What you assholes are called. You're Coobie so they're Coobies."

I'm not Coobie. I'm Kyubey.

"Ooh, what's that, Coobie?" Homura said in the closest she could get to a teasing voice, which was 'slight inflection'. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say I just wounded your pride."

I have no sense of pride, said Kyubey in his usual dulcet tones. I don't even understand the concept. But my name is Kyubey.

"It's hardly even your real name, is it? So I can call you Coobie if I want."

Nevertheless, it's the name I chose to-

"Here, Coobie." Homura grabbed Kyubey with one hand and placed him in her lap. "Who's the cutest little sociopath? Why, you are, Coobie." she said as she petted him, almost sounding like a regular girl playing with a regular cat.

You need to stop this-

"Coobie. Shhhhhh. Only cuddles now." Homura's expression was concealed by Kyubey, who she was now rubbing against her face. If it had been visible, a bystander would have seen the hint of a contemptuous smirk on her face.

I could escape any time I wished to, you know.

"But you're not escaping, are you?"

No response.

Homura let out a small bark of laughter. It wasn't very joyous. "Homura 1, Kyubey 0. All right, I'll let you go."

She released him and got out a book of matches. She opened the pack of cigarettes and put one in her left hand. With her right hand, she deftly flicked the match against the rough side of the matchbook and lit up. Then she put the cigarette in her mouth.

Fifteen seconds later, the cigarette was ground into the pavement, the matchbook and pack had been flung behind her into the bushes, and Homura was still coughing.

I did warn you, said Kyubey. He almost sounded smug.

Dammit! Homura thought to herself. Fine. You win this round. Kyubey 1, Homura 0.