Re: the lighthouse, inside.
"Oh." Careless as the smoke he was cloaked in, the man remarked only to acknowledge her words. This was easy. This was effortless. Here, there, anywhere, it didn't matter. He would swirl and settle regardless of his circumstances. If she wanted to say what she thought, the lightkeeper, it didn't bother him. The steps were ascended because there was nowhere else to go, and he didn't much feel like standing still or walking in circles. Up, up, up, his footsteps made no sound at all. He was unobtrusive.
She didn't move back again, he noticed and tucked it away like he did most things. The yellow light illuminated a sleeve, just that, heavy and white, and if he expected anything it probably wouldn't have been that. And still, she hid. A mystery the man of grey and smoke had yet to decide whether or not he could unravel.
Her reason for being in the shadows made sense. To not be seen, one hid. Shadows were as good a place to hide as any. "Maybe I have a reason for being smokey," he suggested, pausing in his ascension. "The word. It's amusing." Another shrug. Yes, being stuck implied they couldn't get out, but how did she know? "Maybe we can. "Don't you think?" He waved a hand, tendrils of smoke curling around his fingers in mimicry of a loving caress.