“I got hooked on these when I was a dumb kid,” he says, picking up her pack of cigarettes and shaking it gently.
“Me, too. It’s a comfort.” She smiles, softly blowing a cloud of smoke over the edge of the balcony.
“Yeah," he puts them down decisively. "But then I really got hooked on them in the CAP. They've got Marlboros there, but they’re not real Marlboros. Fake packaging. Real tobacco. The old stuff.”
“Oh god.”
“Yeah, oh god is right. With all the cancer and addictions and everything else. It was hard to kick when I got back. The counter-addiction treatments aren’t a real treat. Headaches, impotence.”
She giggles.
“It wore off,” he says through a lopsided grin.
