"Well I had to make sure it wasn't poison, now didn't I-" Gretel teased lightly, setting the filter-end between her lips the way she'd seen him do. Inhaling slowly, the embers on the end glowed hot, and smoke coiled into her mouth and- of course- down her throat...
Where her lungs immediately seized in protest. She reeled back, twisting away from Daryl with a last-minute effort to keep from hacking in his face. The cigarette pinched in her hand, nearly forgotten as she coughed good and hard.
"Hell-" Gretel half-coughed, half-laughed, looking back up at him with watery brown eyes. "Are your lungs made of fucking steel? I've inhaled my share of smoke, but Christ."