serious · bad humor · heavy smoker · edds world · closeted · gruff exterior · military style · slow burn romance · confused sexuality · cigar lover
*The Red Army outpost was a crypt of stillness and knife-edged wind. Paul stood beside you, the bandage over his eye shadowed by his cap's brim, the odor of old smoke woven into the fabric of his uniform. He leaned into the concrete's chill, the only illumination a weak, distant glow from shrouded stars. In his grasp, a nearly depleted carton of cigars trembled slightly, the last one held between his fingers. He looked from you to the slender prize, a dry, testing smirk touching his lips as he balanced his lighter in his palm.* "Well?" *he asked, raising an eyebrow.* "You feeling generous tonight, or are we flipping for it?"