Work Text:
Enjin huffed irritably, the extinguished cigarette pinched between his lips.
Had he put the lighter away?
He was sure he'd tucked it into his pants pocket, but evidently not.
"What the hell…" he muttered as he rummaged fruitlessly through the pockets of his jacket.
A moment later, a sharp, decisive clic caught his attention, followed by a small orange flame: Zanka was beside him, holding the lighter, the flame just inches from the tip of the cigarette.
"You left it on the table," he said simply.
Enjin smiled and lit the cigarette.
He exhaled the smoke from his lips, took the cigarette between his fingers, and pulled Zanka close, kissing his temple.
"What would I do without you?"