Cold outside was a complete understatement. Even before he had the door fully open, Alex could feel the chill attack any area of exposed skin offered up; shifting the hue to a bright red with it’s sting. He was about to go to his usual smoke spot when something ( someone ) got caught in his peripheral. A woman, attractive with flaming hair, who he had never seen before. Or maybe he had-- memory seemed to be more and more of a subjective thing nowadays. Normally he’d avoid the interaction but he woke up on the right side of the library stack this morning and could do with a bit of conversation with his nicotine. Measured steps cut the distance between them away, and he made sure the click of his boot against the ground was loud enough so he wasn’t about to blindside her. Sneaking up on someone these days is a ticket to having a bullet in your head.
“Funny how even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse, people are still scared of a little second hand smoke.” He pulled out the tattered package from his coat pocket with ease, tapping it against his palm before sliding a single cigarette out. Once lit, he took a mindful drag and let the smoke ferment against the roof of his mouth for the longest second, russet eyes trained to the frost bit landscape off in the distance. His words were rasp around the edges, in jest, and pushed out in the exhale. “Maybe the terrorists did win.”