Lucius's smile stiffened a bit awkwardly. His hand froze halfway to laying the remaining cards in the middle of the table, and he regarded Weiland carefully, not sure whether to laugh or recoil. His natural inclinations won out in the end: it was always better to put on an agreeable face until you knew you damn well couldn't. He laughed, and slapped the cards down cheerfully before taking the proffered cigarette with a murmured thanks.
"It's your funeral," he said. There was something fishy about it, no doubt - but he supposed he had no cause to start fearing any of the sharks who'd been swimming around his house now. He could hardly dig himself much deeper. "You have a deal." He picked up his cards. Not bad; swords had always been his lucky suit.