Merlin's cigarette was nothing but the filter by the time it was five fifteen. At five thirty he had a mouthful of the last strawberry of the bunch. His lips were almost a bright shade of red with all the berries he'd been stuffing his gob with and furiously he wiped at them with the back of his long sleeve. That was when he gave up and found that pushed behind his right ear was the real last cigarette.
It was just as he was taking his first drag that he heard the faint, nervous questioning of his name. He blinked languidly at the sound and turned his head slowly, as if he were some kind of turtle man who moved only in slow motion. Another moment of blinking and he put that cigarette out as his smile lit up his face. "Yeah, man. Yeah. That's me."
He was still just sitting there, like a complete idiot, when finally he pushed himself up to his feet. The wand sitting on the ground beside the container that held the strawberry tops was grabbed and he made a casual flicking motion over his form. The scent of smoke that plagued his body dissipated and was replaced by a lighter and more pleasant fragrance. He hated smelling like a tar factory.
For a moment he simply stood there, smiling and tapping his wand against his thigh. He couldn't help but feel a great amount of butterflies in his stomach as he watched her. So this was his future wife. She was pretty.. but.. she lacked something and it bothered him that he couldn't pin point what it was.