"C'mon, it's just a cigarette, not a weapon of mass destruction!"

Nico assures you, but for some reason it doesn't seem that way to you. You are standing with your backs pressed against the van, there is nothing to do, you are bored to heavy sighs, and your index and middle fingers are already holding a cigarette clumsily.

The fire of the lighter blinds your eyes as well as the blue inscription on the vehicle, and this certainly makes you want to squint. The burning sensation of menthol on the tongue disappears almost as soon as you cough from the first puff, feeling unable to breathe. She laughs, blowing bitter-burning smoke in your face.