He took the extra cigarette from behind his ear and held it out to her, along with the lighter from his pocket. "Keep the money," he pointed at the rest of the shit in her hands, "A... third of the Red Vines and the spliff'll get you home." He narrowed blue eyes at her, wondering if she'd take the deal. It was probably unusual for a cab driver to be willing to negotiate but here he was.
He didn't know precisely who she was but he could feel that Immortal presence. And the lostness. It was mostly the lostness that weighed on him, had made him wait for her through the night. Old habits died hard, especially when you didn't die anymore. At least, not of natural causes.