[Kira snorts, but he lets Setsuna duck away, barely touched. It's enough, though. The feeling of his warm body: he's real.]

You liked it.

[He fishes out from his back jean pocket his carton of cigarettes and with the other hand gets his lighter from his leather jacket. He unpacks the sticks inside by tapping it against his outer thigh before artfully picking one from the box between his fingers. It's less that he wants a cigarette and more that he needs it, though his fingers don't shake as he brings it up to his lip and lights it.]

So, what, now that you've cleaned up a little and gotten yourself some money, you're too good for you ol' senpai?

[It's a joke. Well, it sounds like a joke anyway.]