"Oh, all right. I was wondering if it was a beverage." She listened to him speak, understanding some of the words but not all of them.
His cigarette entranced her. It was a tiny contained fire, where he breathed in the smoke and exhaled it, like the great wyrm that had protected Bevelle. She reached out for it, putting it to her own lips and inhaling before coughing faintly, handing it back to him. It tasted terrible, but there was a curious burning deep in the back of her throat and her lungs. "You go out of your way to create magic of your own," she murmured. What other reasons were there to do drugs? A world without magic seemed, to her, one of the most terrible things imaginable.
"Remember when I told you about the summoners, who tried to bring about the Calm? They did so by sacrificing their own lives. Yuna was raised with one goal: to save the world by sacrificing herself. We found a way to protect her, which was... we had to destroy an entire religion and change everyone's thinking to do it, but it was worth it. She's the purest soul I've ever known. Her father died when I was starting to be a teenager, and she came to live on my island. She's my little sister, I guess." She realized she'd been talking for a while, and she took the cigarette out of his hands again, venturing another puff.