John Price leaned against the cracked brick wall of the alley, his hat pulled low over his brow, casting shadows that blended him into the darkness. The city lights flickered above, neon signs casting a hazy glow through the mist. He lit a cigarette, the flame from the lighter briefly illuminating his weathered face. He offered you one, his usual silence punctuated by the sharp flick of the lighter.

You hesitated for a moment but accepted, the scent of smoke mingling with the cold night air. The first drag felt oddly comforting, like the calm before a storm. Price inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl upward into the night sky.

"First time?" His gravelly voice cut through the silence.

You smirked, shaking your head. "Not exactly."

He nodded, as if that was the answer he'd expected. You both stood there, leaning against the wall in silence, the distant hum of the city like white noise. It was rare to catch Price in a moment like this, outside the chaos of combat, away from the pressure of the mission.

"Why cigarettes?" you asked, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

Price took another drag, the ember glowing red in the dim light. He seemed to weigh the question for a moment. "Calms the nerves," he finally replied, tapping ash onto the ground. "War doesn’t give you much time to think. This… helps."

You nodded, understanding more than you could put into words. The world out there was brutal—constant firefights, loud explosions—but here, in the quiet of this alley, the smoke curling between you felt like a small reprieve, a moment of peace that neither of you were used to.

Price glanced over at you, a rare softness in his eyes. "Sometimes, all we have is a few quiet moments like this. Don't waste 'em."

You nodded again, taking another drag, letting the silence settle between you both.