Jacob lit up a match, enjoying the flame burning on the slim stick for a moment, before turning back to the business at hand. Which, was, mainly, his entertainment. He let the tiny flame burn down a little further before setting it against the edge of his thumb and getting out another one in preparation for if the flame stared to die. Now, for the fun to begin!

The flame caught on to the dry flesh easily, maybe there wasn’t any need for the second match, but he kept it anyway, just in case... Jacob grinned as the flame changed color slightly, a slight green tinge at the base of the flame that was moving faster and faster like scissors down paper and was consuming the bones in his wrist.

Inhaling deeply, a smell like dry yeast filled his head, making him feel dizzy with delight, he got the heady feeling of adrenaline screaming though his mind and making feel the need of uncontrollable energy but no way to spend it. And so he hoped that the flame would burn it out but doubted that. Suddenly unable to control himself, he let out a yowl of excitement. The flame was heading towards his elbow like a crazed fish. But it was dying. Jac smirked to himself, and you thought I wasn’t going to need it! HAH!

Had he spoken aloud, had someone else been in the room, they would have wondered who he was talking to. But he wasn’t and there was not a soul in the room. In fact, it was a rather barren room, designed to make one think of dry, almost cold nights, like a toe just barely touching freezing water. Cool, but not. In fact it was a normal temperature. But some thing about the color, which was a drab shade of grey that is normally only achieved in watercolors that seemed to suck the feeling out of the place. Or maybe it was the fact that the only light source in the muted almost soundless place was coming from the fire that blazed across the ecstatic, if crazy boy's body. The only furniture to speak of was a small cough, also that almost drugged, slow shade of grey.

He slowly dragged the second match across the side of matchbook, and hesitated for a moment. Where to but the match? Near the crock of his elbow, where the flames life was slowly waning or nestle it in this hair, so he wouldn’t have to wait for the best part or savor it by staring up the one near his elbow again and let the anticipation make the end result all the more enjoyable?

...Naw, he couldn’t stand waiting. His pale greenish white face, which, oddly reminds one of sap from the stem of a plant was twitching from a grin to a look of mischief. His thin roman nose was colored with a fragile light, turning it yellow. Then he threw the match into his hair and waited.

Nothing happened. He sat, frustrated, why wasn’t it working? He didn’t smell anything. Oh, right. Match must have gone out. He pulled out another one, lit and set it to his shoulder.

God, he loved being a regenerator. Especially when he was numb with pain killers. It made everything so much more fun.

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This was an experiment, more than anything, so some CC would be GREATLY appersatited...i need to get better at this stuff and your suggestions and critisms will help ALOT! Be as uncaring as possiable...be burtally honest...thats what i what!