"Probably," Tom drawled. Although lung cancer was no laughing matter, he didn't appear to be terribly frightened by the thought. The cigarette - halfway up to his mouth - hovered in the air for a moment before he finished the path and took another drag. "But what can I say? I'm an optimist." The cigarette hung from the edge of his mouth, but that didn't stop Tom from cracking a lopsided grin, his lips stretched awkwardly to keep the carcinogen-packed paper from falling to the ground.
There were people for whom Tom wouldn't have worried about second-hand smoke, but apparently Izabela's health was of some concern, for after a few seconds he plucked the remnants of the cigarette from his mouth and scrubbed it out, digging it tip-first into the cement in front of the trailer.
"I figure something else will get me first," Tom finished the thought with an abrupt, amused laugh. "And save me from the consequences of my reckless youth."