Emerson swore under his breath, shoving his hands in his own pockets to prevent himself from literally snatching the cigarettes from his cousin at the last second. No, he'd meant he was going to do this right along with Lucien, and goddammit, he was going to fucking do it even if it killed him and everyone who had the misfortune of crossing his path during the first few weeks.
"Well, you clearly have talent with fire. It's even color-coordinated," he admitted, trying to focus on the positive. Lucien had an affinity for fire, just like him. It made the older witch proud. "But how's the new guy. What's his name again? Steve. Bill. Roger..."