[He’d argue it isn’t a stupid question so much as it’s a disbelieving one. An indignant one, really, implying that she shouldn’t afford time to be casual, impassive, wanting to smoke of all things, while he remains agitated and still wheeling at the new set of circumstances presented to him.
He’s tired of being yanked here and there at the whim of something he doesn’t understand. Anyone who doesn’t feel similarly is just inane, Weir thinks, and he makes that clear in the gaze he cuts in her direction.
But fine. A light. He steps away from the vines and gestures her closer.]
So have I. [Been in worse situations. Technically. Probably.] And yet I’ve still a day or two more in me before I start giving into old vices.
[Whether or not she draws closer, he flicks his wrist and a… very tiny flame dances at his fingertip. There’s your light. He frowns down at it, displeased at its... size.]
no subject
He’s tired of being yanked here and there at the whim of something he doesn’t understand. Anyone who doesn’t feel similarly is just inane, Weir thinks, and he makes that clear in the gaze he cuts in her direction.
But fine. A light. He steps away from the vines and gestures her closer.]
So have I. [Been in worse situations. Technically. Probably.] And yet I’ve still a day or two more in me before I start giving into old vices.
[Whether or not she draws closer, he flicks his wrist and a… very tiny flame dances at his fingertip. There’s your light. He frowns down at it, displeased at its... size.]