[ Tomura's gaze flicks to the flame rising from Dabi's finger, and it's not long after that, that the smell starts drifting toward him. Normally he'd wave away the smoke, but he's not in the mood. ]

Most people just like to complain. You're not much a of a complainer, Dabi.

[He's curious, but in the end he doesn't really care. As long as the end results are the same, it makes no difference exactly why they're here. Tomura hands the bottle back, then slumps down in his seat a bit, wincing at how tight his shoulders feel.]

So is this generally your idea of a good time?