The Stowaway/The Diplomat
The refusal of the offered smoke was given a respectful nod before everything was placed away. There was a mental note made to address the other title presented but a smoke was a bit more pressing at this time. Even if a fine chocolate with a delectable red wine also felt like the most divine combination his mind - his mind? - could create. Finally, a hand would grasp at the searched for lighter and it would be retrieved to light up his own cigarette. Only after taking his first puff and replacing the lighter back into the same pocket as the pack of cigarettes did he venture to speak again.
The puff of smoke would be released respectfully off to the side of the train as to not billow up in his new companions face.
“Duke. My name is Duke.” He offered a bit more directly this time, allowing some of the previous good humor to fall away, but only a little. “Marmaduke if you’re my mother.” There was another smile there, one to help show the passing joke he was attempting to make. Disarm with charm oh. That was a new voice in his head. When asked if he understood what he was saying a light chuckle rumbled within his chest and another drag of the smoke was taken before being released in a similar manner as before.
“I fully fathom how horrendously odd I must make continued conversation.” The smile showed indicated that he knew exactly what he was doing and that the oddity of speech? Well, that was completely intentional.