He watches her, brows still furrowed, as she seems to fall into her little task and then so quickly fall back out of it. Her agitation is plain and his teeth are set right back on edge, even if this time it's not directed at him. It so easily could be. Hell, it probably still is to some degree.

When she asks for a match he snorts softly and then bites his lip to silence himself. Does he want to come clean about who he is to this woman? Hell, does he care? Can she think he's any more of a monster than she already does? Rather more pettily, does he want to share the hot springs with a smoker?

Turning his head a little, he feels the breeze on his cheek, blowing out towards the lake, as it's wont to do at night. It'd be at his back, at least. Without a word, his face rather set, he holds his hand out for the cigarette and its elegant little holder.