Jesus, who the hell said it was acceptable to have such an advanced crossbow design and yet not know anything about cigarettes? Daryl was momentarily baffled by her reaction, but he shook his head, ridding himself of the thought as he dug into his pocket and pulled out his lighter. He held it up for her to see and began his explanation.
“It’s got tobacco in it,” he started. “They roll it up in this paper stuff, light it up, and smoke ‘em.”
Daryl demonstrated this for her then; he placed the cigarette between his lips and brought the flame from the lighter up to ignite the tip of the cigarette. He took in a deep inhale, and then exhaled the smoke around the cancer stick. Turning back to face her, he held out the lighter for her to take.
“Gotta breathe it in as you light it, but don’t drown yourself in it. Take it slow, let it breathe back, and then blow it out.”
It felt a little weird explaining how to smoke a cigarette. In the Dixon household, there was never a time Daryl found himself wondering. His mother, God rest her soul, was a notorious chain-smoker who scoffed at medical warnings-- something that eventually killed her, to be fair-- and his father was no stranger to a pack or five a day himself. Merle had started off young, and in turn, so did Daryl. Smoking was just a fact of life for him.