[Harding's face is flushed and his eyes look glassy. He stops with his hand on the door and looks between Vasiliy and the cigarette, not quite studying the man's expression so much as considering his own options. It seems to work, though; whatever is clawing around in his head seems to still long enough for him to let go of the door handle and reach out to take the cigarette.]
... Thanks.
[He fishes his lighter out of his pocket. The cigarette trembles in his grip as he puts it to his mouth and tries — unsuccessfully — to get a light going, striking the flint wheel with his thumb over and over and not getting anything but a few sparks to show for it. He mumbles something that sounds like shit as he keeps at it.]
Sorry for the wait, neighbor!
... Thanks.
[He fishes his lighter out of his pocket. The cigarette trembles in his grip as he puts it to his mouth and tries — unsuccessfully — to get a light going, striking the flint wheel with his thumb over and over and not getting anything but a few sparks to show for it. He mumbles something that sounds like shit as he keeps at it.]