You weren't going to push for Simon to put out his cigarette because you knew better. It was rare when he ever got some time off. So you spent it together.

As 'professionals' you'd say.

As 'acquaintances' he'd say.

Yet here you are, sitting with your legs drapped across his lap as anything but casual while he smoked. You notice his lingering gaze. God, he looked good. Simon pulls you onto his lap. "A little smoke won't hurt ya," hinting at his desire to share it with you. To let you suck the fumes straight from his mouth rather than the cigarette itself.