Although his dark features usually did well to overshadow the softness in his eyes, his voice could rarely conceal his emotions. That, I believe, should justify the elongated silences that he often resorts to. Just like the one we are in the midst of right now. The dome light of his parked car is the only source of illumination on this moonless night, allowing only each other and parts of the car to be in each other's view field, which was later blurred by the smoke he blew out. 

"Will calm your nerves." He said quietly when I didn't immediately take the cigarette he offered me. I bit my lip and looked him in the eye as I plucked the burning stick out of his fingers, "Once you resort to writing as a coping mechanism, nothing else comes even close." 

"Is that why the villain in your story has a description that matches my looks?" He chuckled. I smirked, "Well, who else could it be, my love?"