Diana didn’t walk all the way up to Martin. She stopped in the doorway, glaring. Slowly she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her empty carton of no cigarettes. Then she threw it at him.
Perhaps he had been expecting a more violent reaction, because he didn’t bother to dodge it. It hit him in the shoulder.
“I hate you.”
“Actually going to quit?” Martin asked. His tone had to be mocking her, it had to be.
She couldn’t admit to him that after her time in the Abyss, she didn’t feel the immediate desire to light up. Right now. Maybe later. With a scoff, she turned and left.