He cuts his eyes right back, giving nothing away. He's thinking he'll never be satisfied, can never get enough of this. But there's plenty of time to look, so he doesn't have to stand there and stare like a girl.

He appreciates the silence. He'll just never say so. He doesn't break it either, except to light a fag; a modern one, with his Zippo. He's brought a supply, and inside his head just dares her to complain. He's not going without tobacco for God knows how long until they find somewhere he can buy real stuff here, and he forgot to ask Bar.

Besides, he's the ruddy Marlboro Man for real, now. He can smoke what he likes.