A cigarette was nestled between Arthur’s plush lips, sucking inwards. Smoke had filled his mouth and lungs, taking the cancer stick away from his lips with his pointer and thumb. He stoically kept the fumes in his chest, absorbing the nicotine before letting it out through his nostrils and mouth.

The smell wafted into your nose, making you glance over to see what Arthur had been doing while you whittled away at a block of wood, too caught up to hear the match be lit moments before.

He caught your eyes on him, his right brow flicking up in acknowledgment, leaning forwards onto his knees with his forearms, the crate creaking under his weight.

“You want a puff?” he asked calmly, generously extending the arm that’s hand had held the cigarette in it, tilting his head in the process as he waved it at you, almost beckoning for you to take it.