True. I'm not getting paid to figure this out. But I've always been bad at following instructions.

[ His smile is wry, a touch sardonic. It's what he does - gets in over his head, even though he knows he ought not to. Even when he knows there's something going on underneath the surface that he'd be better off closing his eyes to. It's the tragedy of it all. His own damn curiosity.

Her statement on cigarettes makes him pauses and then he taps one out of a crumpled pack for her (and another for himself for good measure) and he bends down to offer her a light, the little flare of the lighter illuminating their faces. ]

Where are my manners? [ He murmurs around the cigarette dangling from his lips. ]

See, this is why I'm glad I'm sticking around you. You remind me of what I'm supposed to be doing.