"If you want," comes a familiar voice: There's a click, a catch of flint, and the unmistakable scent of tobacco and paper burning. Not the roll-your-own or Marlboro variety, but the exotic, spicy version that somehow accentuates the scent of peaches.

"I've never been one to turn down a pretty face. -- They did a number on yours, didn't they?"

Desire's golden eyes swim into view, mouth shut against a cigarette as he draws the smoke in.