âWell look aâ that. Youâre somethinâ else there, Miss.â He watched her take a drag from his smoke and hand it back. It left the mark of her lipstick on the filter. He wasnât embarrassed to walk around with that. She was his little distraction, was she not?
âNot bad, is it? Not all good for your lungs there, either.â
âYouâre just now figuring this out?â She gazed at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement and mischief. She absolutely loved talking to this man. Screw what any of the otherâs thought.Â
âIt canât kill me, I have bionic lungs.â Or spelled lungs. Either way, she doubted a cigarette would kill her. âI should hope to die a better death than a cigarette.â







