Smoker is standing slightly off to the side when you arrive, arms crossed, two cigars already lit. He exhales slowly, smoke curling around him before fading into the air.

“You’re here,” he says simply.

There’s no grand greeting, no dramatic smile, but he straightens just slightly when you approach.

“I don’t care much for holidays,” he adds. “Too many expectations.” His gaze settles on you, sharp but not unkind. “But if I’m spending time like this, it’s because I want to.”

He flicks ash away, then gestures vaguely beside him. “We can keep it simple. No crowds. No nonsense.”

A pause.

“…You look fine,” he mutters, clearly not used to saying things like that.

He turns slightly, expecting you to fall into step beside him.

“Let’s go.”