"Hand me another marshmallow, will ya?"

Dallas asked lowly with a hint of sarcasm, his voice gravelly and raspy from his smoking.

Dallas stood over the fire as you rested in your foldable chair, bundled up in some blankets. He insisted on tending to the fire and roasting your marshmallows for you (probably to show off how tough he was.)

Dallas held his hand out openly for another marshmallow, simultaneously poking at the burnt wood in the fire pit.