[ It's generally second-nature for Danse to refuse things people offer him, out of longstanding habit, unless he knows them well. But none of his reasons for that apply anymore, and he wants that smoke badly enough right now to accept it with a nod of sincere thanks, all the more when he sees how close the pack is to empty.

It's enough show of goodwill, paired with that intense and searching look, to make Danse think it would be worth the risk of looking ridiculous to try and articulate an answer to that question. He doubts Arcade would be pressing out of curiosity alone. He pulls a half-empty matchbook from his own pocket, and uses the time it takes to light up to find the words to explain--cautious, halting, after a fortifying drag and slow exhale. ]

I had this dream last night. You were in it. I imagine this doesn't sound unusual on its face, but...so much about it was completely foreign to me. Things I wouldn't even have known how to invent.

I've been having strange dreams for days now, but--not like this. This was different. It felt almost like it was all happening to you, instead.