Eiri was finally allowed to smoke in his own cabin, and in the absence of Tsukasa's wrinkled-nosed faces and Makino's disapproving looks, Rui found he was more and more inclined to the habit. It was relaxing, it took him farther from home, and he'd found he enjoyed Eiri's company. After the cake he brought over for Christmas disappeared in record time, Rui would occasionally bring the other man some kind of sweet he had no intention of eating himself. In return, he'd steal a cigarette, Eiri would grumble, and they would smoke and drink herbal tea and Eiri would pick at his dessert like he was doing Rui a favor by eating it.

Sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn't. Gradually, over the course of several packs of cigarettes, the stories came out, filling in the gaps that they'd missed in each other's lives. Rui started coming by to make use of the kitchen, cleaning it by inches until it was fully functional. He would stand barefoot in front of the stove, a cigarette between his lips as he sauteed vegetables and boiled pasta, tossed them together with oil and cheese and set a plate expectantly in front of Eiri. This cooking he ate as well, silently and affably bullying the writer into more frequent meals. In general, he made a nuisance of himself and ignored the other man's complaining about it with all the grace of someone who regularly dealt with Domyoji Tsukasa.

It did, as Eiri frequently pointed out, suck to be stuck in camp again. But, Rui had to admit, a lot of the company wasn't half bad.