My, I wonder what your mother would say if she found you with that.
Celeste nearly lets her cigarette fall upon hearing the voice; it's her first reaction whenever her secret comes close to being discovered. She's careful and cautious and, right now, caught. The cigarette is saved as soon as she realises who the speaker is. Besides, he'd already discovered her. In part, she's thankful that she won't have to cut short the amount of time she has to smoke. That, however, seems to be the only thing positive about it, as her small scowl reflects.
"So is surprising people, yet you seem to have no qualms with doing so."
Steely, brittle; the tone of her voice is harsher than usual and harsher than she intended. Perhaps it's the headaches. Perhaps it's the lethargy. Perhaps it's because talking to him is restricting her from taking another drag. Not wanting to dwell further upon health problems, she concludes it must be the latter and pauses to take a long drag, not breaking eye contact while doing so. When she removes her lips from the filter it has gained a lipstick stain and she had gained a smirk, the corners of her mouth curved upwards in a manner which is both pleasant and devilish simultaneously.
"This is my third -- ever." A blatant lie, but she spins it well. "Surely that can't be the same for you, Robert? You can forgive a girl for trying to relieve some stress, certainly?"
Perhaps she should inhale incorrectly during the next drag she took, to add a little authenticity. A sore throat and a few coughs were a small price to pay if she could pass off her smoking as a rare occurence.
At least she, unlike him, does believe it's a disgusting habit. Disgusting, yet blissful. Except when interrupted.