He inhaled sharply, holding the smoke deeply in his lungs, before slowly exhaling, the reams drifting and filling the small space. Hemmed in by the ancient rock formations, he stared absentmindedly out of the V-shaped shaft, as the bright light streamed in.
“Is this wise?” Peter choked a few deep coughs, waving his hands about to dissipate the smoke, the tang sharp in his nose.
“Would you have me smoking myrrh and frankincense?” Yan asked, without looking back at Peter.
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