An hour later, Migina felt better. She lay back on the bed, watching Franklin with his cigarette. The smell was sharp to her immortal nose, and she waved the smoke away.
"You should quit that."
"This?" He held the cigarette up and grinned. "Why? They're all the rage."
"Yes, but I don't know why."
"The humans say they're good for your health. Or they did a few years ago. I can't imagine that would change."
Migina rolled her eyes. "You're immortal. You don't need to worry about your health. Admit it, it just makes you feel sophisticated and modern."
"Maybe. And what's wrong with that?" He laughed. "Come, Migina. You're as prone to your little vanities as anyone." He took a puff, blowing the smoke in a thin stream. "Speaking of little peculiarities, Verchiel is back."
Migina stiffened.
