Paul stares a little, brain a bit sunbaked for a quick snappy response.

He takes the cigarette in lieu of a smartassism, since his brain needs a few more seconds to get into gear. The first drag is quite possibly better than a lot of the sex he's had over the years.

Paul's eyelids flutter and he leans his head back to exhale the smoke at the ceiling. Yeah, he'll die of lung cancer probably. Totally worth it in this moment.

"Any other day I'd give you such shit about this," he mutters, words somewhat belied by the quasi-blissful look on his face.