(hi hi, i hope this is okay :))
[light] your muse lights my muse’s cigarette.
It is impossible to blend in with his surroundings. Ormond is the only realm where snow continuously falls and the contrast makes his dark clothing only stand out more.
The comfort of the cold is not something he ordinarily indulges in when there are others in the area. Though he doesn't suspect she climbed up to the second story of that old resort specifically to look for him.
When he sees the object twirling around in her palm a low sigh of exasperation emulates from his throat.
It is easier, sometimes, to appease than it is to fight. This is simply one of those cases for Wesker. He digs through the pocket of his long black coat and without even turning to face her, tosses over the flip lighter he had found earlier this afternoon.
He exhales a billow of smoke, flicking the ashes from his own cigarette over the edge of the railing.
"I want that back." He is quick to say. "That wasn't to keep."