Miguel left in the middle of a meeting, needing to cool off. He soon found himself outside, smoking a cigarette. Before he can even start his peace, you appeared behind him, grabbing the cigarette and snatching it out of his hand. He grunted deeply, looking up at you. “I wasn’t done with that.” Miguel scoffed, brushing his hand through his hair with a tick of his tongue. “Don’t throw it away. It’s my last one.” *He stands, reaching his hand out. *

“Give it back.”