Re: the lighthouse, inside.
"No, but it increases the likelihood. The changes are higher." The smokey man learned from experience, it was written and not forgotten. The smoke retained such things. Push, push, and he let himself be, and he'd regretted it too many times to count. Now, hands that tried to push passed right through him. He wanted to be impervious to being swayed. "What does it hurt?" It was his turn to scoff, the man of smoke, hoarse in his throat. "If you need to ask, then you can't have tried much when the result was failure." Or maybe she clung to optimism still, where his view was as bleak as his lack of color, as the smoke that was now his companion.
He didn't need a key to escape, and so his offer to try wasn't for himself. It wasn't for his sake, for his freedom. "No." Again, sharper. A hiss, like smoke rising from a boiling pot, like steam, hot and ready to burn.
The man of smoke wasn't one for deals or bargains. He didn't understand her smugness; it was her freedom at stake, not his. The smoke curled back, away from the spray of water kicked its way, before settling back. "I'll try with the shirt. But what does it matter what I care about? Why do you care? I'm offering to try so you can go free," he said. "Not me."