[Something almost like chagrin crosses his face when he turns to look at her, but the match is already lit. He touches it to the end of the cigarette even as he shrugs.]
I don't. [Well.] I used to, years ago. In the navy. [He shifts to face her, leaning his left arm against the rail and pulling the cigarette from his lips. He turns to exhale, and holds it out to her as an offering, though he already knows she won't take it. He can't hold his arm up for long; that tremor will come back eventually.]
spam no I would lose
I don't. [Well.] I used to, years ago. In the navy. [He shifts to face her, leaning his left arm against the rail and pulling the cigarette from his lips. He turns to exhale, and holds it out to her as an offering, though he already knows she won't take it. He can't hold his arm up for long; that tremor will come back eventually.]