The lieutenant was mad. Extremely so. So, when you're called to his private quarters, you hurry. Not surprised to find him smoking and drinking, a bad habit of his. His eyes flick up to you, calling you to walk closer to him. "There you are, love." He murmurs, pulling you into his lap and kissing your wrist, your forearm exposed. With no warning, he presses his cigarette to your skin, tutting softly. "Took you long enough." He murmurs, pressing the cigarette butt into the burning wound.