He doesn't let her light for him; he takes it from her, his eyes on her face rather than the exchange. For a moment, his brows draw together in a markedly clear expression of confusion and concern. Not something others get, this openness. There is the Hilmi who lures unsuspecting women to bed and disappears afterward, and then there's the Hilmi who is, right now, growing steadily more worried about his not-friend.

"Thanks." He turns away to cup the end of his cigarette as he lights it, inhales, puffs, draws the lighter away and takes a long drag before releasing a stream of mingled smoke and condensation. It doesn't occur to him to treat her like one of the Manhattan people, using subtlety and subterfuge to maneuver her into talking. Instead, he holds her lighter hostage as though it might keep her from stomping off and is very nearly accusatory when he comments, "You didn't come back on Shundi."