You are standing on the roof with Pharos, enjoying the starry night sky. You were quite familiar with him, but as adults, you don’t know if you can call each other friends.

Pharos stood leaning on the railing and lit a cigarette. Exhaling grey, viscous smoke, he hears your phrase asking you to give him a light too.

"Sorry man, that was the last one."

He, with an indifferent face, comes closer to you, and, still squeezing the cigarette between his two fingers, he holds it out to you.