Re: the lighthouse, inside.
His smoke made no sound. Sometimes, sometimes, it was the whisper of a hiss if he listened closely, but he thought that might be entirely in his head. Sound ascribed to silence to make himself feel less alone when the fancy struck him, which wasn't often. Solitude was safe. Familiar. Easy, and he settled into that like the clouds and wisps and screens of smoke settled about him. He didn't think that his approach might frighten her, because in his absence of the tangible and the concrete there was very little to fear. It was an emotion better cast off and forgotten, he thought. But, like the gulls and the waves and the roving light above, the drip-drop of water was sound. Quiet. He didn't mind it.
Her laughter was a rare surprise in a world of the expected. "No. I suppose I don't." Careless, once again. "Why are you a lightkeeper?" Pause. "I'm smokey because it works for me." Perhaps it was an honest answer, but that amusement had crept back into his voice and made it difficult to tell. Smoke hid, shrouded, it didn't tell truths or reveal honesty.
Still no glimpse of her features, but he did get a look at what she wore, white and wet, and he merely blinked when she doused the lantern. Unconcerned. He inclined his head, silent agreement, when she said she would show him, and he resumed his ascension. While he needed no guidance, he accepted her reach of fingers out of curiosity, not wishing to refuse an offer, but where she was solid he was not. Even beneath the smoke, it was difficult to get a grip on him. Like he wasn't entirely there, like he couldn't hold fast or be held fast to for very long. Tragic, except he didn't care.
Out was, indeed, better than in. Beyond brick and mortar, to where the waves crashed and the gulls flew free. He had no desire to be anywhere, but he understood that she did. "How long have you been here?" Curious. "We can try to find a way out. I have nowhere else to be. Nothing else to do."