Jinah surveyed the stranger leaning on a rustic brick wall beside her with curious, careful eyes and a slight twist of her lips. Her gaze reflected uncertainty and wonder. He looked… vaguely familiar. Perhaps he was an actor? He looked well-dressed enough to be an entertainer of some sort. Nonetheless, she refrained from asking, reasoning that the poor man probably already had half a dozen too many fans barging into his personal life without knocking to enter first. 

“…Ah. Yeah, I do,” she managed at last, fishing a crumpled half-empty pack from her bag. Jinah had remotely no idea if what she had was good, or half-decent, or complete trash. She’d leave that to him to figure out. “Not mine, though,” she added for good measure. “I keep it around for a friend. She goes bloody ballistic without them.”

Jinah handed the pack to the man and folded her arms, a small smile hinting on her scarlet lips. “Like her, I don’t suppose you’d be interested if I lectured you about how cigarettes devour your lifespan,” she murmured very matter-of-factly. “I’ll say this on behalf of Seoul’s female population, though. With that face, you should aim to live a longer life.”