[ he reaches up, leaving the cigarette between his lips and pushes just a little bit of lu bixing's hair back behind his ear. he admires him here, haloed by what light they have. he watches him overhead, unsure of how exactly he ought to feel. relieved? mournful? some combination of both? he wonders, for a moment, if they can sleep somewhere else tonight and doesn't bother asking. instead: ]

That's because Uriel doesn't know you're cheeky brat doing naughty things like smoking.

[ a beat ]

Unless she does, then she's just playing favorites.