[Kunimi's embarrassment is clear, and Whelk is surprised to find that it is also grandly comforting. This presents an opportunity, the potential to shift the power back in Whelk's direction. Once again he remembers that this is his home, his belongings, his territory. Never before has the shoddy town home felt like such a domain. It doesn't escape Whelk's perception that this realization is dangerously reminiscent of the night before's addictive energy, but mostly, he's just glad that he's not the only idiot in the room.

[He delicately removes the stack of papers from his legs and sets them on the unoccupied leather cushion beside him, then moves to stand.]

I've been smoking since I was fifteen years old. [He reaches down to begin pulling a pair of sweatpants up over his boxer shorts.] Never in my life have I met a smoker who didn't want a morning cigarette.

[He levies a weighted stare in Kunimi's direction.]

Not inside though. The smell becomes unbearable if you don't show restraint between special occasions.

[Then he straightens and casually crosses the room to pluck his pack from off the bedside table. He doesn't look at Kunimi as he places a cigarette loosely between his lips.

[Then he slips on a pair of shoes, grabs Kunimi's pack off the table, and heads out the back door onto the patio.]