Collecting a cigarette, Louis offers a lofty: "Can find it just fine, thank you."

It's been over a hundred years since he and Paul were boys together, looking up at the sky from the rooftop. Louis feels out the edges of the memory. There is pain still, but it is isn't blinding. Doesn't steal his breath.

More than capable of lighting his own cigarette, Louis still lets it dangle, looking expectant. Someone can volunteer, surely.