It's not like Abigail usually goes around carrying matches, but she just happens to have a pack in her back pocket when she stumbles upon the woman trying to light the bonfire. She isn't quite sure what triggered it (though she thinks the period of time when she forgot who she was, went back to being comparatively happy and carefree, might have something to do with it) but these last few days she's been gripped with a feeling of directionless rebellion. For no reason than her own satisfaction, she wants to transgress. Wants to break all the rules, to be bad. A typical enough teenage feeling, though for her it is somewhat colored by her knowledge that, no matter what she does, she's already done worse. She's already a monster, and monsters don't have to always make good choices.

So, today's transgression comes in the form of a carton of cigarettes shoved in the pocket of her hoodie. She doesn't really want Hannibal or Will to spoil her moment with lectures on her health (besides, if people don't age in Wonderland, and even come back after being horrifically murdered, why should she worry?). That is why she finds herself on the beach, looking for some solitude - or at least, escape from quasi-parental hovering.

"Need a hand?" she asks, because that whole rubbing-two-sticks together thing doesn't look like it's working out. Abigail pulls the packet of matches from her pocket, wordlessly holds it up in offer.