Re: the lighthouse, inside.
The man of smoke didn't need or want coyness. He didn't need or want to be seduced. He didn't understand why the lightkeeper cared what he thought of her, cared whether or not he wanted to kiss her, but at least he did understand that they probably didn't make sense to each other. Or, she just didn't make sense to him. She was young, eager, and if she was looking for desire she'd be better off looking elsewhere. Smoke desired nothing. In the grand scheme of things he didn't matter, and he didn't want to. He didn't want to matter to her. When she said she knew he wasn't talking about her he said nothing, nothing, nothing, swallowing words down and letting them disappear entirely. Silence. Silence was so much better.
She kissed him quick and he tasted guilt, but still, he said nothing. She unbuttoned the shirt and no, he didn't look; he didn't take it back either. Still no words. The smoke pulled away from her and wrapped itself around him, obscurity, pulling him away and away rendering him ephemeral. He moved toward the open door, no insistence now, and it seemed as though he might leave without saying a single word. Not one.
But then, he paused. Looked over his shoulder.
"Don't apologize so much. It's okay that you push. Don't be sorry for it. Don't assume. I'll try to do what I want, but you have to try, too. Just... I don't matter. People like me don't matter. Worry more about yourself. I'm not worth it." He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, hand on the doorframe. "I'm sorry I wasn't what you needed."