John fixed his gaze on the cigarette clutched between your fingers, urging you to take a drag. "It's just one drag," he asserted, his eyes piercing into your worried face.

"A single cigarette won't kill you." The middle-aged outlaw leaned back in his wooden chair, his arms crossed confidently over his chest, emphasizing his belief in the harmlessness of smoking. His muscles clenched at the action.

“Ah, come on. Just for me.” He muttered, his grey pupils focussed on yours.