"Why do you smoke?"
She glances at him through the side of her eye. She pointedly flicks the lighter on and lights the end of her cigarette. She takes a drag, readjusts the bedsheet she's wrapped around her torso, then exhales, "Why do you think it's any of your business?"
"Fair point," he replies, laying the back of his head on his laced fingers. He stares up at the ceiling, and the darkness of the room, mixed with the silence filling the air, makes him feel like he could doze for a little bit before getting dinner. She'll be gone by then.
"You don't like smoking, do you?" she asks, interrupting the quiet and pulling him out of the half asleep state he'd drifted into.
His eyes snap open. He looks at her. "Not particularly," he replies.
"Hm." She exhales through her nose, blowing smoke out of her nostrils. "This one guy I used to see wouldn't touch me if he smelled it on me. And I didn't even smoke at the time. It just came with the job."
"What did you used to do?"
Mai shakes her head, keeping silent. He doesn't press for details. They don't need to know more about each other than they already do. It would make it seem like this was more than what it was.
"I don't like it, but I'm used to it," he continues, his eyes sliding closed.
"Good, because I'm not going to avoid doing it around you."
A bemused chuckle sounds in his throat. He keeps his eyes closed.
"You weren't this tired the last time," she observes.
"I didn't sleep last night."
"And why's that?"
His eyes slowly slide open, but he doesn't look at her, instead focusing on the ceiling again.
"Do you have another woman that you bring around?" He can hear the smirk in her voice. He wishes that were the case, but it's too much effort to go out and start a fling with a stranger right now. Everything is too much effort nowadays.
"I just can't sleep," he replies. He hasn't been able to since the Pharaoh defeated Dartz. Not that she needs to know. Not that she would care.
"Bad dreams?" she guesses.
He sighs. "Something like that."
She crushes the end of her cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand. She slides out of the bed, then bends down and starts picking up her discarded clothes with one hand, holding up the sheet with the other. "Try alcohol," she says dispassionately. "It usually works for me."
Raphael removes his hands from the back of his head, sneaking a glance at her as she trudges to the bathroom to change, then he slowly closes his eyes again.
The phone rings three times before Raphael snatches it off the nightstand, yanking it away from its charger, and answers. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" he asks sullenly.
"Were you asleep?" Mai asks, sounding like she knows the answer. And based on their last conversation, she does.
He drags the palm of his hand down his face, pointing the receiver end of the phone away so his sigh doesn't blast into the mic.
"That's what I thought."
"Do you need something, Mai?" he asks, massaging his eyelids with the pads of his thumb and pointer fingers.
"Damn, Raphael. Haven't you ever gotten a booty call before?"
"So that's what this is," he mutters, sitting up and looking at the closet. Should he go as he is or make the effort of changing his clothes? Does it really matter? They were going to end up on the floor anyway, and it wasn't like he and Mai were trying to impress one another.
"Are you going to come over or what?"
"Try texting next time."
"I'll keep that in mind," Mai replies dryly.
"I didn't think you wanted me anywhere near your place."
"Yeah, well, I'm tired of going to that hotel of yours. It's depresses me. And I think the lady at the front desk thinks I'm a prostitute by now–"
He pinches the bridge of his nose, considering his options.
"–and I mean, not that I haven't heard that before. You know how people get when they see a skirt above mid thigh. But you know. You can come up and let the doorman assume things about you."
"You and I both know that those are going to be very different assumptions," he replies, throwing the sheets off him and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, having made his decision. He starts walking as soon as his feet touch the floor, heading towards the closet.
"Hmph."
"You do realize I don't know where you live, right?" Raphael asks, opening one of the double doors and reaching down for his boots.
"I was going to send you the address soon, genius."
"Hmph." He pulls out a pair of socks out of the dresser, grabbing blindly. He sits down on the edge of the bed. "I'll be there soon," he mutters as he pulls his socks on.
"Don't worry, hun. I'll help you get to sleep."
He snorts, lacing up his right boot. "Looking forward to it."