"Makes sense, most things are better with booze," he says, chuckling, then reaches for his pack of cigarettes as if reminded of his own preferred vice. Hey, nobody's perfect.

Especially not him as, in trying to light it, he manages to singe his own bangs. He doesn't even react (he hasn't even noticed, truly), but as has become custom with everyone he meets here, he tips the pack toward his new acquaintance in case he'd like a smoke, too. Most turn him down, but whatever, worth an offer.