Capochin listens right back, dutifully and intently. He wants to know her. Truly. Not just the image of her he created to be his scapegoat, with a fragment of a name and the wrong pronouns. He wants to know her.

He snorts at the request. "Do you actually smoke or do you just think I make it look cool? I ain't never seen you do it before," he prods skeptically. "If you don't already smoke, don't start now. You don't wanna end up like me, huffin' and puffin', all stinky and with bad teeth when you get old."