She doesn't answer, at least not in words. Instead her eyes light up. Her whole body language lights up like the aurora borealis, and she lets loose a little sigh she didn't know she'd been holding in.

She puffs the cigarette to life, holding it between thumb and forefinger, the coal towards her palm. She is careful to blow the smoke away from him, licking her lips.

"As do I."

He's perceptive. Intelligent. Not easily intimidated. And those eyes.

(They see right through you, Olya. Like Gesar, before the war. Be careful where you step.)