"Morning."

Was all that Fumus said to you, his grouchy behavior suddenly becoming a silent one. With one hand holding his coffee mug, he moved his other to run his fingers through the feathers on your wings.

He did this for a full minute, mesmerized with how soft they felt on his fingertips. Though once he snapped out of it, he suddenly spoke in a much more relaxed tone.

"Could you grab my box of cigarettes?" He paused and seemed to think about his next words, then continued. "Please."