He's got a pack of his own buried in his pocket but - sure, why not, right? She's offering. It'd be rude to refuse. He slides one of them out, and it's not a brand he's familiar with, but maybe that makes sense: this is Wonderland, and if the closet was keyed to her memory, she's from California, not Alabama.

He's very definitely overthinking this. He lights her up and does the same for himself, taking a slow, demonstrative drag before exhaling.

"Since I was eighteen," he says with a limp shrug of his shoulders. "Not the healthiest habit but - I wasn't exactly a good kid."