John hates it when she smokes in the truck, has told her a thousand times, but it kind of feels good, undermining him slightly the way he does her on the biggest of things, hunts and places to eat and music choices.

Every time Jo lights up in the passenger seat, she lets her eyes flick sideways just to catch the tightening in John's jaw as she inhales deeply and rolls down the window so she can blow the grey smoke into the wind.

Tonight's no different as she lights one of the non-filtered rollies she'd done up, quick as a flash, in the parking lot while waiting for him to pay for gas. "That'll kill you," he says quietly, and she only glances at him as the smoke billows out of the side of her mouth.

"So will a heart attack," she replies dully, chewing on her lip slightly and leaning back, tapping her fingers idly against the fraying knee of her jeans to the beat of the AC/DC tune that's turned down just enough to be background noise.

John just sighs, shifts gears and shakes his head. "Wouldn't have agreed to take you on if I knew you were gonna get yourself killed by somethin stupid as cigarettes."

Jo rolls her eyes and takes two more puffs in quick succession, filling her lungs one more time before licking the pads of her pointer finger and thumb and squashing out the cherry, blowing the smoke out the window as she opens the old Marlboro pack she keeps her rollies in and rolls up the window.

Not another word is spoken and they're crossing the line into Arizona when John leans over to turn up the radio.