Then she reached over and plucked the cigarette from between his fingers with the casual authority of someone who'd made a decision about this before climbing the stairs.
"No," she said simply.
He looked at her.
She held the cigarette away from both of them and then seemed to realize she couldn't do anything with it since there was no ashtray present.
She held it awkwardly.
"It doesn't affect me," he said.
"I don't care. It's a bad habit, and this is my house, when you are in my house, you will listen to what I say."
She finally just held it over the railing and let it drop into the garden below, looking slightly guilty about the littering.
He looked at her for a moment, and then something happened to his expression that he hadn't entirely intended. The corners of his mouth moved.
Martha caught the almost-smile and pointed at him.
"Don't."
"I wasn't doing anything."
"You were about to find something funny at my expense. I can tell."
